Karma
by aRegularJo
Summary: The funny thing about life is, what goes around will come around again in some weird freaking cycle. Future fic.
1. Over the Rainbow

All surgeons, Meredith Grey decided, were, at their core, artists. She had been a painter in high school, spending all of her free time in the cement-floored art room, splashing acrylic onto canvases. She'd had paint permanently stuck under her fingernails, lots and lots of black eyeliner, and a taste for music that everyone else in her private high school despised. She'd gotten by on her brains (not that she'd used them) and the fact that she loved to party and her mother was never home. She still loved painting and drawing; her doodles were a testament to that. Somewhere she even had some of her best work from high school.

Most of the rest of her friends had some form of art in their background, too: Burke played the trumpet and was a serious jazz aficionado; Cristina had seriously considered a career in ballet and could play classical piano; George had taken clarinet lessons all through school and hated it. Alex was the son of musicians; he could pick up most instruments and play them by ear. He was especially good at guitar. Izzie had taken dances classes, on and off throughout her childhood, and had a natural grace that had led to a career as a backup dancer, which had led to the modeling gigs. Even Bailey had once revealed to Cristina that she had been an ice skater from the time she was three to the time she was thirteen. It was as if they unconsciously set out to be surgeons, their hobbies and passions training them, teaching their hands and bodies the delicate, graceful moves and molding their fluid, almost melodic motions that surgery—which was really the perfect marriage of technical skill and graceful movement—required. Surgery was tough; becoming a surgeon was almost tougher. That extra training in balance and precision and grace really helped.

The only one who had no background in art or music was Derek—ironic, because the brain was the most delicate, most precise specialty there was. He'd been an affable nerd, the sort of kid who joined things but didn't stand out, was smart but didn't apply himself, was popular but never pushed. The drive and the aggression necessary for a surgeon hadn't kicked in until med school, and even then he was the laid-back mild one, seemingly just in it for a hell of a ride.

A wistful smile on her face, Meredith was jerked back to reality as the tinkly piano music stopped and the abrupt applause of the audience kicked in. She caught Cristina's eye over Nelle's head, and smiled and nodded encouragingly. Avery was standing at the front of the church's sanctuary, smiling and bowing a little before practically running back to sit with her family. Burke opened his arms, letting her climb over his lap, and she snuggled in between her mother and father. Both quietly congratulated her; her first piano concert had been a success.

Avery had been towards the end of the program; the piano teacher believed in mixing up the beginners with her most advanced students to give the younger ones a sense of awe and the older ones a sense of appreciation. Two students later, Meredith was able to stand and stretch. It was a good thing, too; she was beginning to feel creaky just sitting there and zoning out.

"That was_ so much fun_!" Avery exclaimed, "And I didn't even mess up, hardly. Didn't I, Mom?"

"No, Aves, you did a great job." Cristina smiled fondly at her daughter, and Meredith smiled fondly at Cristina. She remembered the engagement, how Cristina had sworn that getting married didn't mean she became less of a surgeon and more of a housewife—she wasn't going to have kids or do any homey crap, and if she was going to have kids, it was going to be in the far, far future, because she wanted surgery first. Then, barely a year after the wedding, she'd found out she was pregnant. She was actually more surprised than excited, she'd once confided to Meredith, since she hadn't expected to get pregnant, while using protection, with only one fallopian tube. She'd been ambivalent the whole pregnancy; freaked, she'd once explained to Meredith, since she was pretty positive she was going to suck and screw this kid over. She didn't like kids (she still didn't like most kids, really only her own) and she would never give up surgery, and neither would Burke. Everyone had been fairly apprehensive as to how they would handle the screaming bundle of joy.

Now, five years later, they were making it work. It was difficult and stressful—Cristina, had, of course, not given up surgery, had still managed to complete the program with the highest marks and get a smashing fellowship with Bailey and Webber about liver tumors. But they'd had Avery, and Cristina had—adapted. She was still Cristina, hard and steely and blunt—even more so now that she had the mother tigress thing going— but she filtered things differently; she processed things differently. Three years after Avery came Nelle, planned, according to Cristina, because she'd been an only child and it had sucked, so she was going to give Avery a sister. Their third child, Cooper, now three months old and at the hospital day-care, was as unplanned as Avery had been. Izzie and Meredith had dubbed Cristina the Golden Ovary after she announced—six months along, though Mere had suspected at two—that she was pregnant, again, even though everyone had told her it would be extremely hard to have children. There was a nanny, Kariin, but Preston and Cristina went to as many activities as they could and basically scheduled their entire lives around their children.

"I did really really good." Avery was practically skipping. "I didn't mess up _at all_, besides two tiny little mistakes. Much better than Kelsey." Her voice was slightly disdainful. Kelsey was a friend of Avery's; she had gotten stage fright and her mother had had to go up front to walk her down.

Burke exchanged a significant look with Cristina, who rolled her eyes before saying, "Aves, you know that's not nice, to talk about other people like that." Almost as if she couldn't help herself, she added, "Besides, it's not a competition. Only compete against yourself, babe—not with the others."

"You're right. That gets boring anyways. Nobody likes to win all the time. I need new goals." Avery walked carefully in front of her mother, pulling Cristina along by her hands.

Burke threw another significant look at Cristina, who raised her shoulders and smiled. "Avery, babe, remember what we talked about? About being gracious and humble?" He tried.

"We need to know that we have lots of talents, and we don't tell people who aren't that we're better than them." The little girl's voice was almost comical, with a tint of sullenness. Burke sighed, knowing that was the best he was going to get out of mini-Cristina, and shifted Nelle from one hip to the other.

Mrs. Pearson, the piano teacher, approached the small family. "Avery, great job." She smiled, opening her arms for the girl.

Avery dashed over and hugged her. She'd adored the elderly pastor's wife since she'd started taking lessons ten months ago. "I didn't mess up once! Well, two _little _mistakes. And it was a two-hand song!"

"Yes, it was very hard, wasn't it?" she smiled. "Dr. and Dr. Burke—you must be extremely proud."

"Yeah, she did really well, didn't she?" Burke smiled. "She really enjoys it, too—hardly ever have to make her practice, she always does it on her own."

"She's very talented." Mrs. Pearson said earnestly. Avery listened, wide-eyed. "Really a treasure to teach."

"Thank you." Cristina said. "Both, you know, for the lessons and for the concert. It was very enjoyable, for the most part."

"Couple of kids screwed up." Avery explained.

"Aves," Cristina warned. "Remember what Daddy just said."

"Right." Avery said. She looked up at her parents. "Can we go get cookies? Mrs. Pearson put them downstairs."

Burke looked at his watch. "I left O'Malley with my bypass; I better get back and check up as he closes up. No pages; he should have gotten through everything else all right. I have some paperwork to pick up, too." He handed Nelle—who was being cranky and refusing to walk—to his wife and kissed her on her cheek. "And I'll pick up Cooper on my way home." He promised.

"Kay, we'll order the Thai." Cristina smiled, wincing as she shifted Nelle's weight.

"Pizza," Avery corrected her mother.

"See you, Meredith." Burke nodded, acting like he hadn't heard Avery's comment. "Thanks for coming."

"Yeah," Avery echoed, wonderingly, it suddenly occurring to her to use manners. "Thanks, Meredith."

"Well, thank you, Avery. It was very wonderful."

"Yeah, it was." She grinned.

Meredith looked up to Burke. "Say hello to that crazy husband of mine."

"Will do." Burke kissed his wife again and then both daughters before striding towards the back of the church.

"Mom, can we go get cookies?" Avery asked again, impatiently.

"Sure. Just one, though, okay?"

"Yes!" Avery shouted, letting go of her mother's hands and dashing downstairs.

Mrs. Pearson smiled and laughed, watching Avery take off. "She's really quite remarkable, Dr. Burke-Yang. Just naturally talented, plus she's taken to it very quickly. Some children take years to develop things that just come naturally to her."

Cristina smiled. "I think she does really enjoy it, I'm sure that helps."

"Yes." Mrs. Pearson affirmed. "If only she was less competitive—less harsh on both herself and others. I don't think I've ever seen a more competitive, perfectionist five-year-old before. Maybe it will tone down with age."

"Oh, I really doubt that." Cristina smiled. "Her dad and I are some of the most hardheaded, most stubborn and competitive people around. Hopefully her father's crusade for tact will start to kick in soon."

Mrs. Pearson smiled—an awkward mix of discomfort and benevolence—and replied, "Well, you never know. Still very young."

"Yeah." Cristina said, clearly done with the conversation. "I better go find her before she eats five cookies. It was very nice to see you again. She'll be there Tuesday."

The two women started towards the stairs. "Let me take Nelle. I need to practice," Meredith said. Besides that, Cristina had hurt her back during her latest pregnancy, and it was still sore quite a bit.

"You wanna go with Meredith?" Cristina checked with her daughter, who nodded slowly. Nelle was much more like Burke—Avery was obviously mini-Cristina—and more likely to take things slowly, deliberately, and quietly.

"Yeah. Yeah." The little girl stretched out of her mother's arms towards Meredith's. Meredith had been in the girl's life since she was four hours old; she was probably the fourth most-recognizable adult to Nelle, after her parents and Kariin.

"Come on, Nelly, let's get a cookie." Meredith wound her way down the stairs as Cristina stopped to talk to some other parent. They passed Avery, who had two cookies in her hands and another in her mouth. A guilty look passed over her face, quickly replaced by a conspirational one.

"Want one, Meredith?" she held out her hand.

"I'm good, Aves, but you might want to listen to your mother more often."

"Yeah, she catches things like this a lot. Kariin said mothers _know_ these things. I think Derek puts a brain chip in them once they have babies."

"You'll have to check with him on that one. He's pretty sneaky."

"Yeah he is!" Avery brightened, her natural high from playing the piano well even more alleviated. "He—wait! I can't tell you! He's being sneaky and I'm not allowed to tell you."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. You just have to wait a little bit. But it's good-sneaky, like when Dad wakes me and Nelle up early and has us bring Mom breakfast in bed, not bad sneaky."

"I'm really excited for that then."

"Cookie." Nelle said. The concert had interrupted her nap; she was being cranky.

"You want one, Nelly?" Avery held out her cookie. "I took three."

"Avery Angela Burke-Yang" Cristina's voice, clear and crisp, cut through. "I told you _one _cookie."

"See? I told you. Mom's sneaky."

"Yeah. Busted." The little girl sighed, her voice resigned. "It's that brain chip."

"Cookie." Nelle said louder. "Choco-chip cookie. Not sugar." She looked at her sister's choice and turned her head.

"Yeah, I promised you a cookie." Meredith said. "Let's go." She threw a look at Cristina, who nodded, and walked towards the long table set at one end of the hall. "Chocolate-chip? Do you want lemonade too?"

"Yeah. They go good together." She reached for the cookie on the table. Meredith quickly maneuvered to keep the girl from falling out of her arms.

"What a gorgeous baby!" a woman behind her exclaimed. "Such an unusual look. Where did you adopt her from? She's simply adorable."

Meredith turned to find a woman slightly older than herself standing behind her, wearing a long dress and matching coat. "I didn't." Meredith smiled. "She's my friend's. She's part Korean, part black. And 100 joy."

"Oh, I'm sorry—I just assumed." The woman seemed generally contrite.

Meredith waved her hands. "It's okay." She said reassuringly. "I get it."

"Great." The woman sounded relieved. "I'm Kathleen McCormick, Daisy's mother. She played a selection from _Kinderscenen_." Meredith nodded, though she didn't have a clue what that meant. "Which child is yours?"

"Oh—none of them. My goddaughter is Avery; she went third from last. This is Avery's younger sister, Nelle."

"Well, you'll be here in a few years then." Kathleen nodded towards her belly. She seemed genuinely friendly, just in a blunt way. And a more-positive blunt way than Cristina's. "When are you due?"

"I'm at twenty weeks, but that's long enough already. I can't wait."

"Do you know what you're having?"

"Yes, it's a girl. We're just stuck on names."

"Oh, it's fine. You won't pick one until after she's born. That's the way it happened with us. Daisy was supposed to be a Belinda. Donovan was supposed to be a Henry. And Darcy was supposed to be Mackenzie. Just, when they were born—the names didn't fit. So we chose new ones."

"We're making lists, checking them twice, all that jazz. My husband likes Ellen since our mothers are Ellis and Helen and that's a combination of sorts. I'm leaning towards Jacqueline because it always sounds elegant, or Austen since I love Jane Austen's books but hate the name Jane."

"Austen has a very elegant ring to it. And it sounds quite trendy, right now."

"I think it's very cool and unique, but my husband thinks it sounds like a boy's name and doesn't have any nicknames that will go with it. I say nicknames certainly don't have to match the names—his certainly don't. We have time, though. At least the nursery's done. And we're getting plenty of practice with this one and her little brother."

"Is your husband here?"

"Oh, no. We're both surgeons; he's in surgery right now. Avery's parents are surgeons, too, her father slipped out to go finish up a bypass. What are you in?"

"Oh, I was in marketing, but Darcy's still only four. Perhaps I'll go back to it one day. Are you planning on working after your baby's born?"

Meredith nodded. "I'm a surgeon. A brain surgeon. It's not feasible for me not to, after all those years of school—it'd be ridiculous. Plus, you keep with it for a reason. Mine is I love it too much to give up and pick an easier specialty." She fed the baby bits of cookie and carefully poured lemonade down her throat.

Kathleen smiled knowingly. "Well, I wish you the best."

Cristina walked up then—Meredith's saving grace. She held Avery's hands, and was wet-wiping them as they walked. "Mom says we get to go to the park until Dad finishes the bypass and picks up Cooper and then we can go for pizza!" she said joyfully. She was way too happy about her performance. "It's cause I did so well!"

"No, it's cause Mom feels like relaxing and you like the park. We don't tie rewards to performance." That was another one of Burke's things; making sure their children knew that both parents loved them unconditionally, even though Burke tended to set unrealistic expectations and Cristina could put a lot of pressure on them. Burke had lots of theories and ideas and plans; Cristina tended to roll her eyes and claimed that their kids were going to be brilliant, regardless, so freaking out and over planning wasn't going to help anything. Meredith knew that Cristina's mother had been just as difficult as her own and that Cristina was trying extremely hard not to mess with her kids' heads as much as her own mother had.

"It was nice to meet you. Daisy did wonderfully." Meredith said, wracking her brain trying to remember _Kinderscenen_.

"Thank you. Likewise. Good luck with the rest of your pregnancy." They smiled and parted.

"We're going to the park. We're going to the park." Avery sang the words and skipped out of the church.

"Aves, you better run off some of this energy before we get home." Cristina said tiredly as they reached the car. She opened the door and ably slipped the straps of the booster seat over Avery. Meredith struggled a little bit with Nelle's car seat, but was eventually successful.

"How long are we going to the park?" Meredith asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

Cristina checked her watch. "Burke should be an hour, then we can run by Venzetti's and pick up some dinner, and then we can drop you off. Unless you guys want to eat with us?"

"No, thanks, I'll pick up our own dinner at Subway. Don't forget, Izzie's housewarming is tonight."

"Crap, I'd forgotten. Why are they having a housewarming _now_? They moved in three months ago."

Meredith shrugged. "It's a great way to get gifts? I don't know, but we already RSVP'd and agreed to help set up. You remembered a babysitter right?"

"Yeah, the McKilligan girl from next door is coming over. At least she's eighteen; I don't like the younger babysitters. Burke's always trying to convince me to hire Dr. McNeal's girl, but she's only fourteen and then there's the whole driving them and everything, and Cooper's still so young. I think Burke wants to bring him tonight and just bring the bassinet too. I should call Izzie—"

"Mom, why do you call Dad Burke? Isn't that all of our names? And isn't he Preston?" Avery called from the back seat.

"Well, yeah, it's his last name. But I call him that cause I like it better. It's my nickname for him. Like, how I call you Aves and Nelle Nelly and Cooper Coop. and you know not to interrupt Meredith and I." Nelle looked up at her name.

"Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Meredith. But, it's his _last name_. Not a short name. Why don't you call him Presty or something? Since his first name's Preston?"

Cristina shrugged and met her daughter's eyes in the rear-view. "I just like it, sweetie."

"Okay." She seemed sated for about a second. "How come you call Derek McDreamy?"

Meredith chortled. "How did you hear that one, Aves?" Cristina asked, grinning.

"You and Meredith call him that. Well, you call him that when you're making fun of him. And you called Alex 'Spawn of Satan' once to Izzie and she got mad. Who's 'Spawn of Satan'?"

"Are you listening at the bedroom door again when Mom and Dad have friends over?"

Avery, caught, turned away and shrugged. "Maybe sometimes."

"You know you shouldn't do that. Your dad and I already told you about eavesdropping."

"Sorry." She said. She started the conversation over. "Why do you call Dad Burke, though? Why did you start?"

"Well, for a while he was my boss. He still is, I guess. And we called him 'Burke' for short when we were talking about him, and Derek was 'Shepherd' and Miranda was always 'Bailey.' And—you don't remember him, but he's your godfather—there was another doctor, named 'Webber.' We just always dropped the title 'Doctor' from their name. We weren't friends so we didn't call them by their first names. That's how I met your father."

"Was I born then?" Avery asked innocently.

"No, Aves, this was—" she turned to look at Meredith-"This was ten years ago. Meredith, we're old."

Meredith shrugged. "Yeah. You've been _married_ for seven years. I've been married for four."

"We're old. When did this happen?"

"I don't know. I still feel like I'm fourteen half the time. And I'm having a baby, at thirty-eight. We're old parents but I still feel like I'm playing house half the time. Our kid's playmates' parents will be like twenty-nine, and we'll be forty-five and I'll feel like their parents. At least you've got Aves; you were thirty-four when she was born. That's more normal. How did you become the one with the normal life, married and three kids and you've even got a _dog_, first? Izzie was always supposed to be first."

"Yeah, she wanted it more." Cristina replied, sliding into a parking spot. Avery and Nelle visibly got more excited in the back seat. "Swings first, guys?"

"Yeah!" the both shouted excitedly.

"Mere, can you grab Nelle's jacket? It's getting cold." Cristina said, unbuckling herself and trying to grab Avery before the girl shot out of the car.

"Yeah, got it." Meredith swiftly grabbed the baby and twisted her into the pistachio microfiber jacket. "Like that?"

"Yeah. You wanna make me swing?" Nelle said eagerly.

"Let's go." They hiked to the swing set, where Avery and Cristina were already swinging away. Halfway there, Nelle started fussing like she wanted to walk, so Meredith set her down and she toddled towards her mother.

"Sure, sure, walk for Meredith but not for Mom," Cristina picked up her daughter, kissing her and setting her in a swing. "Meredith's going to push you, okay?"

"Not too hard," Nelle cautioned. "Just little ones."

"Alright sweetie, I've got it under control."

They were pushing away and laughing with the girls when Cristina said, "So what time do we have to be at Izzie's?"

"I promised her that we'd be there to set up at about six. The housewarming doesn't start till seven."

"So I have till seven." Cristina said, satisfied.

"I…sort of indicated that you'd be there at six, with us, to help set up. And I was there when she reminded Preston—that's the time she told him."

"See, Meredith calls him Preston!" Avery called triumphantly. "It's just _weird_ that you call him Burke."

"Chalk it up to a Mom-and-Dad thing." Cristina said. "You know, one of those things that parents do that's special and that you're going to roll your eyes at when you're a teenager."

"Whatever." Avery said.

"You are way too good at saying that." Cristina replied, more to herself than her daughter.

"Hey, Mom, watch this!" Avery shouted, jumping off the swing. Limbs flailing, she flew through the air. When she landed, it was knees down, palms out. "Owe," she said, more to herself than her mom.

"Aves, you okay?" Cristina flew to her child's side.

"Yeah. It's fine," she had pulled herself into a kneeling position and was inspecting her knee.

"What's the damage?" That was the question Preston always asked her; the replies were always comical.

"It looks like a couple of abrasions on the right patella, with the possibility that contusions are coming." She delivered it all in a perfectly serious tone.

"What's the prescribed method of treatment?"

"Probably rest. A Band-Aid is probably necessary too."

"Probably? Do we deal with probably? Lives are on the line."

"No, we don't. Band-Aid necessary; the knee will be rested."

"Good diagnosis. Now how do we go about treatment?"

"First Aid kit is in the car."

"Let's go. Good job, Dr. Burke-Yang."

"Mom, you can't call me that! That's your name!" the professional, serious attitude was replaced by a giggly five-year-old.

"We better get going." Cristina called over her shoulder. "It's pretty much time to go anyways."

"Do you want to carpool to the party tonight? It'll be easier, and then we can all use you as a designated driver." Cristina suggested as they pulled up to Meredith's front door.

"Yeah. We'll be over about five-thirty. That gives you an hour."

"No problem. See you then." Cristina and the Land Rover roared off, both girls waving from the back seat.

Meredith smiled at their vanishing backside before walking the path and unlocking the front door. She didn't see the Escalade, but maybe it was in the garage. She hoped he was home—she didn't want to run after food.

Hearing noises in the kitchen, she headed in that direction. She was pleased to find Derek in there, puttering around and humming along to his iPod. She laughed as he danced around, putting the dishes away and taking out groceries.

Her laughter burbled louder after he turned to find her in the doorframe. He recovered quickly, though. Taking out the ear buds, he said, "How was the concert?" in an extremely normal tone of voice.

She laughed some more. "Pretty good. Aves did wonderfully. What were ya listening to? Duran Duran?"

"The Ramones." He replied smoothly. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Let's see." She crossed to the takeout menus. "Sandwiches."

"Sandwiches? We can do that here."

"But then it's no fun." She remembered something. "You know, Avery told me the weirdest thing today."

"You trust something that comes out of the mouth of the child of Cristina Yang and Preston Burke?"

"She's a regular font of intelligence these days. First, she said that you implanted brain chips in mothers so that they had a sixth sense about what their kids were up to. Then she said that you were up to something sneaky."

Derek's expression slipped into something unreadable. "Something sneaky, huh? I wonder what that could be."

"Me too." Meredith smiled. "You wouldn't have an inkling, would you? Considering you know that if your wife gets surprised, she hates surprises?"

"Yes, I do remember a certain thirty-fifth birthday fiasco. But, no, I can't think of anything 'sneaky.' I'll definitely keep my eyes peeled for you. I'd hate for you to get surprised since you hate surprises so much. Maybe I should pump Avery. That kid knows too much."

"She does. Today she fell of the swing and diagnosed contusions and abrasions on the patella _and_ prescribed treatment."

"She's the only five-year-old I'll ever know that enjoyed her Jr. Chemist set more than the American Girl Doll that _looked_ like her."

"You're just jealous she liked my gift best."

"Maybe a little," he grinned saucily.

"So the food. That we should order."

"We can make sandwiches."

"I want subs. I'm pregnant. I'm your wife. This is what happens. I want subs, we do subs. I want Cherry Garcia with pickles at two o'clock in the morning, we do Cherry Garcia with pickles at two o'clock in the morning."

"You don't like Cherry Garcia. So I win, and I'll make sandwiches."

"Fine." Meredith honestly didn't mind that much; she'd been a great non-complaining wife the entire pregnancy. "I told Cristina we'd carpool to the housewarming tonight, and I told Izzie that we'd be there to help set up around six."

"That's tonight?"

"Izzie would flip if she found out how many people have forgotten. I had to remind Cristina today. She's got three children under the age of five to keep track of. What's your excuse?"

"I was in spine surgery with an infant whose spine was detaching with Izzie all day today and she didn't mention it."

"Excuses, excuses." Meredith grinned, swiping a piece of turkey from the counter. Tonight would be a good night, she could tell already.


	2. Wonderful Tonight

Here's chapter 2! Disclaimer's in the first part. I'm trying their naming parts after song titles, so let's see how long this lasts. And I feel obligated to add the second disclaimer that it will NOT stay this fluffy. And this chapter is mainly transitional--just a warning.

* * *

"You gonna get out?" Meredith turned to Derek as he stalled the car but apparently was going to make no further move.

"I was just going to sit here." Derek's tone was either deadpan or completely serious; she couldn't tell. However, he turned the engine off and unbuckled his seat belt so she decided to drop it.

Cristina answered the door wearing a t-shirt Izzie had brought her back from a vacation that read 'Let Me Get My Gosh-I-Really-Care Face On' and loose jeans. Her hair, which she'd pinned back during the recital, was wild and unruly. She held a squirmy Cooper in her arms. "Hey guys, come in," she turned almost immediately to head towards the kitchen. "Don't let Mickey out behind you," she called back. Meredith knelt down to quickly pat the shaggy collie/lab mix that had sauntered over.

Derek shut the door as his wife followed Cristina. "Cristina! We're supposed to leave in like three minutes to get there at six. You're in a t-shirt and jeans." She peered into the kitchen, where Preston was doing a stack of dishes with the girls and Cristina was feeding Cooper.

"Relax. I do hot in my sleep. I'll be fine. Do you want to feed Cooper? Cause that needs done before I can get ready."

"I got it, Cristina. Wouldn't want Meredith to get baby food on her sweater." Derek smirked. Cristina looked surprised, but obliged.

"You look nice," Preston called from the sink. He was wearing dark jeans and a hunter-green sweater.

"Thanks. You, too. How'd the surgery go?"

"Patient's going to be fine. She'll be playing soccer again in about three months." Preston smiled. "Derek, you want some wine or anything?"

"Nah, thanks, I'll wait till we get to Izzie's," Derek concentrated on make airplane swoops with the spoon.

"We had pizza tonight," Avery told Meredith excitedly. "But then Dad made us clean."

"Of course he did, he wouldn't be your daddy if he didn't." Meredith smiled.

"We had to vacuum our bedrooms too, because the babysitter's coming."

"Preston, seriously, you pay for a twice-a-week maid and your kids still vacuum? Isn't that a little oxymoronic?" Derek blew a raspberry at Cooper, who burbled and laughed.

"Nah, they still have to clean. Wouldn't want them becoming spoiled brats." Preston carefully swiped a dish and smiled at the shine.

"See, done." Cristina entered, smiling triumphantly in black cigarette pants and a plum cowl-necked sweater. "Where are my boots?"

"Back door," Burke called.

"Thanks. Where's the sitter?" Cristina hurried away.

"She should be here soon." Burke called back.

"We're taking Cooper—I called Izzie, don't freak. Can you grab the portable bassinette, Meredith? It's at the top of the stairs."

"Yeah, I've got it." Meredith headed towards the stairs as the doorbell rang. "Got that, too."

It was the babysitter; a smiley freckly eighteen-year-old. "Hi," she said awkwardly.

"Charlotte, come in. The girls are in the kitchen." Preston said from behind her. "This is Dr. Meredith Grey, a friend of ours."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Grey." Charlotte smiled.

"Charlotte!" Avery called. "Come in here! We have leftover pizza for you."

Meredith headed up the stairs, with Burke following her. "I should get the girls' pajamas." He explained.

"…bedtime about eightish. No more snack tonight either; they both had plenty of pizza." Cristina was finishing up instructions to Charlotte. "Make sure they brush their teeth. There are DVDs in the living room and they've got enough toys to fill an airplane hangar. Just make sure they put it away, right Aves?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why are you taking to me and not Nelle?"

"You're the oldest; you be the responsible one." Burke said. He held up the pajamas. "These are theirs; I figured it would be easier. They'll be on the couch."

"Cool," Charlotte nodded. "I think that we got this, right, girls?"

"Yeah," Avery said. "Don't worry, Mom. We'll be good."

"Okay." Cristina said. "I think we're set." She hugged Avery, "Be good. Watch out for your sister."

After receiving another hug for her father, Avery said, "Have a good time. Derek, Meredith, are you coming over tomorrow? We can have lunch; it's Sunday."

"I don't know," Meredith got her hug from Avery. "We'll see, okay?"

"Alright. I'll see you later, then." Cristina and Burke had Cooper bundled up and were ready to go. With final hugs and kisses, the two couples left.

"How many people did Izzie invite to _this _party?" Cristina said.

"I don't know. I'm not sure how long this is supposed to last, either." Meredith said, swinging open the car door and helping Cristina place the car seat in the middle. Cooper hated car rides for some reason, so he _always_ went in the middle so he wouldn't see the window. Meredith slid in on one side of him, Cristina on the other, and the husbands up front. "What'd you guys bring?" Meredith nodded to the gift.

"Espresso machine."

"Perfect."

"You?"

"Blender."

"Typical."

"I know. Don't make fun of me, it's the only thing I could think of."

"Yay! You guys got here on time."

"I told you we'd be early." Meredith walked in.

"Yeah, but it's you four. You say 'I'll be early' and I think, 'okay, so they're going to be about five minutes early.'" Izzie led them into the kitchen.

"Thanks, Iz. You know, we could just go get lattes or something until five minutes before this starts." Cristina shrugged off her coat.

"Want any wine?"

"Yeah, sure." Derek said.

"I'll take one, too." Preston said, reaching for glasses.

"I want one, too, but first let me take Cooper up to your room." Cristina said, waltzing out with the baby.

"You guys are just lucky that you've got pregnant ole me for a designated driver." Meredith smiled and turned to Izzie, "What do you need help with?"

"Right now Alex is in the living room picking out CDs—can you counterbalance all his crap?"

"I heard that!" Alex called good-naturedly from the living room.

"Honey, acoustic stuff doesn't count as music!" Izzie yelled back. She and Alex, after completing residency, had decided to move—not as a couple but as two friends sharing an apartment—to L.A. for fellowships in neonatology and high-risk obstetrics and plastic surgery, respectively. Three months ago, after those had finished, they had moved back to Seattle as a couple. Izzie was now working at Seattle Grace, while Alex had joined a private plastics practice a few blocks from the hospital. Nobody knew the exact details, or how serious they actually were this time, but they had purchased the house and spent the weekends doing things like going to Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma and working on their DVD collection.

"It's okay, I added one of yours for every two of mine," Alex said, coming behind Izzie and kissing her neck as she poured wine.

Izzie rolled her eyes, "That's all I'm going to get, isn't it?" she slid a wine glass to Burke and then one to Derek. "Do you want water or something, Mer?"

"I'll get it later."

"Okay, Cooper's down for the night," Cristina strode back into the room. "How many people did you guys invite?"

The two looked at each other. "We actually sent out invitations….like thirty maybe. Our new neighbors, some people at the hospital, anyone we could remember from three years ago." Izzie said slowly.

"Yeah, but you _told_ anyone else."

"So…maybe fifty?" Izzie guessed. "You know, most people _don't _come. You have to invite more people than you expect to show up. It's like overbooking an airplane."

The other four looked at her doubtfully. "What? It won't be like that one time." Izzie said, looking specifically at Meredith's skeptical face.

Derek cleared his throat. "Anyways. What do you need help with?"

"There's mini-quiche in the oven that needs watching—" she surveyed her help. "Cristina, can you do that?"

"You're giving me oven-watching duty?"

"Do you really want to assemble canapés or frost cookies?"

Cristina raised an eyebrow. "Frosting cookies?"

"Trust me. It'll work." Soon Izzie had Burke assembling canapés, Meredith topping bruschetta, and Derek slicing lemons and limes for drinks. Izzie herself was frosting cookies and Alex was allowed to organize the treats onto plates. Cristina kept rushing upstairs whenever Cooper cried on the baby monitor. Finally, she just chucked it at Burke, "Your son, too. Do the manly-bonding thing."

"I'm assembling the canapés. You have oven-watching duty."

"Bite me."

"Guys—not here, not now. No biting; you just _had _a baby." Meredith teased over the bruschetta. "Let me hog the spotlight for once; you've had it for five years."

The doorbell rang again. Izzie looked at her watch. "Hopefully that's George; he said he would show up early too." She went to answer it.

Minutes later, George and his wife, Kayla, walked in. Kayla was a pediatric nurse. They'd been married for six years and had a three-year-old, Michael. "Hey, guys, I brought wine."

"Yay. More alcohol." Meredith said.

George reddened slightly, before grinning. "Yeah, more for _us_." He said, grabbing a glass.

"George, you wanna pour nuts into nut bowls and place them strategically around the living room?"

"Don't yell at me if I strategize incorrectly." George said, grabbing the mix and heading into the living room.

"Kayla, can you get the ice into the buckets?" Izzie said, slightly helplessly.

"Got it."

The eight of them worked quietly for almost twenty minutes. Everything was almost ready when the doorbell rang for the first time. "Dammit!" Izzie exclaimed. "I hope it's not the neighbors. I barely know them, I don't want things not being ready. I hope it's a nurse or something."

"You invited nurses?" Cristina's voice was a mix of surprise and scorn.

"Yeah." Izzie said in her best 'duh' voice. "I'll go get the door."

Luckily for Izzie, it was Cassandra Whitmore-Fielding, a 26-year-old fifth-year resident who had interned under Cristina. Cass had been a sort of a whiz kid; she'd attended kindergarten but then had been homeschooled till she was 12 and started high school. She had graduated from Penn State with honors in chemistry and microbiology at eighteen and then had gone to the University of Pennsylvania Medical School. With her late birthday, she'd started her internship at Seattle Grace at 21—when most of her peers were just getting their med school decisions. Brainy but well-adjusted, she'd married a same-year intern their third year and she was very close to Cristina.

"Hey, Derek, Meredith. Hey Cristina. Hey Chief. Hi Alex. Hey, Kayla." Cass, like most of the younger residents and interns, always deferred to Burke as 'Chief,' even in friendly settings. When Webber had retired three years ago, Burke had been named Chief over Derek, but Meredith thought that Derek personally got the better deal: he was given a raise and virtual autonomy over the entire neurosurgery department, which was becoming the go-to one in the entire Northwest. While he was still accountable to Burke, it was like they shared the job—they checked-and-balanced each other—but Burke got the title, the prestige, and the paperwork. She turned to Izzie, "Tom couldn't come; he's very sorry about it. I brought a collection of sea salts." She held out the square hickory box to Izzie.

"Thanks," Izzie smiled warmly. "Well, we're not quite set up yet—but eat anything you'd like; I promise it's all delicious. And feel free to look into any rooms that you want. That's the point of this."

"Except if you go upstairs and wake the baby; I'll have to kill you." Cristina replied as she watched the timer slowly count down.

"Oh, but I want to see my godson." Cass teasingly cooed.

"The baptism's still not for another two weeks; I have time to replace you." Cristina replied.

"Not me, though, right?" George said, walking into the kitchen. "Cause I have cool Christmas gifts picked out already."

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Not you, George. Not yet, anyways." Meredith knew that George had been Burke's push and Cristina had only totally given in because she had no other names available. George was absolutely thrilled about it, though. He and Cristina got along much better than they had in their intern days, but he still aggravated her at times. A lot of times. The timer beeped, and she pulled the quiche out of the oven.

"Good, we're ready." Izzie sighed as she put the quiche on to plates.

It wasn't a moment too soon. The rest of the guests started trickling in. Bailey arrived with Tucker. She was now Chief Attending; she was becoming well known and respected in her own right—not just as Webber's latest prodigy. Callie came with her husband Brett, a pharmacist. Some surgeons from Alex's practice arrived and they exchanged manly back-slap-hugs. Neighbors showed up and were quickly introduced to the hospital staff. Meredith was quickly caught up in conversation with their next-door neighbor, a sixtyish grandmotherly type named Lily. Interns, residents, and attendings circulated throughout the room. Music wafted between the two rooms. Alex's taste was much better than Izzie let on. Izzie led tour groups through the downstairs, showing off the screened-in porch, the new refrigerator, the DVD collection.

The music became louder as Meredith snagged a bottle of water and went into the living room to find Derek. Not seeing him, she crossed to Cass, Cristina, and a group of interns. Suddenly, from behind her, Derek grabbed her wrist and twirled her around. "Hey," she said, smiling teasingly. "I wanna dance."

"You know the rule about dancing."

"Rules are for breaking."

"Not this one. I only break this one for special occasions. Weddings. Anniversaries. Things that have Hallmark cards."

"They make Hallmark cards for a lot of things these days. Including housewarming."

"Nah, it's gotta have a _section_. Whole one. Big, across the wall section."

"Kay, if there's no dancing, I gotta know what the surprise is?"

"Again—trusting Avery is never a good idea."

"She's a smart girl though—the genes are there."

"Damn right the genes are there." Cristina walked over. "You talking about my kid?"

"Your kid knows something. _He_ knows something. And they're being sneaky and possibly even collaborating. And I wanna know what it is." Cristina's demeanor shifted slightly. "Oh, my god. You know what it is too. You're being sneaky with him."

"I know nothing; I see nothing; I heard nothing." Cristina walked away.

Meredith turned pathetically to Derek. "You all know. And you won't tell me." She looked up hopefully. "A dance would help."

Derek laughed, one of his great laughs that showed his teeth. "Not on your life." He took her hand. "Come on. Let's mingle."

"As long as there's no shop talk. Secrets and shop talk on the same night don't mix well with pregnancy hormones."

"Honey, we're practically at a surgical convention. Shop talk is inevitable."

"Not if we avoid Burke. And Cristina. And Cass. She shop talks a lot too." Meredith said darkly.

"Meredith, help in the kitchen!" Izzie called.

"See? Rescued." Derek walked over to Burke, probably to discuss something boring and surgical.

Bailey was in the kitchen with Izzie, helping her arrange more truffles on a plate. "Hey, Bailey," Meredith said, eating a truffle.

"Evening, Grey. Enjoying the party?"

Meredith shrugged. "My best friend and my husband are plotting something with a five-year-old. And I actually care."

"Slightly ridiculous."

"Yeah, I know." Meredith said. She perked up, though. "You know pretty much everything. Do you know what's going on?"

"You think that I pay that much attention?"

Meredith's eyes narrowed. "Great, so you're in on it too. I know you, Miranda; this is how you operate."

"I operate with a scalpel and sometimes with sarcasm; you're completely off base here."

"Okay, okay, I get it. They've sworn you to secrecy."

"Who's sworn you to secrecy?" Izzie asked, laughing as she finished a conversation.

"Derek and Cristina. Or maybe just Derek." Noticing a change in Izzie's demeanor, more obvious than either Bailey's or Cristina's had been, she said, "Oh, god. You too. I'm just going to wait it out. But you tell them, I have my guard up. They're not going to trick me with whatever they're planning."

"Mere, don't get all anal and hyped. Just go with it. Surprises can be good."

"Look at my track record with surprises." Meredith pointed out. "Do either of you like that track record?"

"It's sort of like your dating record." Izzie said, straight-faced. Meredith lobbed a carrot at her, which Izzie caught as it rolled down her chest and then ate. "I'll just take this tray out."

"Seriously, Meredith," Bailey headed out, "You need to quit being paranoid and thinking about what _they_ are going to do with you."

"Right." Meredith said, "Sit back, enjoy things. Got it."

"You might like it." Bailey called over her shoulder.

"Right," Meredith smiled down onto her truffle tray.

The party lasted several more hours; they were the last four to stumble out after having helped Izzie and Alex clean up enough so that they could go to bed without feeling guilty.

"Night Derek. Night Mere." Cristina yawned as she exited the car with a sleeping Cooper. "Avery will probably call you tomorrow and ask you to come to lunch."

"Kay. We'll be waiting. Night." Meredith called.

"Good party." Derek said sleepily as they drove home.

"Yeah. Izzie was very happy with it."

"Sure got a lot of kitchen things."

"Don't complain; now she'll be baking…_stuff_…and bringing it in for us on a regular basis."

"I love walking into the hospital and seeing one of those baskets on the nurses' station." Derek's eyes were closed, but a close-lipped smile spread across his lips.

She drove silently through the streets, navigating confidently back to her—their—house. Burke and Cristina had intentionally chosen something close to Meredith and Derek, and it was a short drive back home.

They walked upstairs quietly, too tuckered out to do anything else. They poured themselves into their clothes and dropped into their bed. "Love you," Derek whispered into her hair, massaging her belly and spooning himself around her.

Clutching his arm and nestling herself deeper into his body, she murmured back, "Love you, too."


	3. Let's Get It On

_Dear Dr. Shepherd,_

_I am writing to thank you(again) for your expertise and compassion throughout my pregnancy. I never planned or even imagined having six daughters, and your patience and reassurance was always helpful and well-placed. While I'm sure any old specialist could have delivered my babies safely,_

_I'm equally sure that none of them could have made me feel more comfortable, knowledgeable, or cared for. I've enclosed a picture of them from their recent christening. From left, it goes Graciella, Luz, Marisol, Salma, Paloma, and Alegria (They are also very grateful.)_

_Sincerely,_

_Elisa Dominguez _

Addison slid backwards in her desk chair and opened her file cabinet. She filed the letter with the rest of the ones that grateful mothers had sent her, and pinned the picture on a bulletin board behind her. The six girls, while not identical, all had a dark shock of hair that nearly overpowered their tiny bodies. She pressed her thumb down on an errant corner and stepped back to smile. She really enjoyed getting these sorts of letters; they were the best part of her job.

Her eyes traveled up the myriad photos of different children she had treated during her tenure at Children's Hospital Boston. She had been there for five years, and, so far, it was her favorite job. There was not the cutthroat aspect that had been there while she'd been at Manhattan General—she was now at the top of her game. There wasn't the angst and anxiety that had defined her four years at Seattle Grace—she was happy now. Her return to Manhattan after leaving Seattle hadn't been as exciting or stimulating as she had thought it would be—she'd been too used to being a big fish in a small pond. Boston was perfect: her job at the hospital required that she also teach a class at Harvard, so she had tons of researchers and fellows to work with; she was surrounded by like-minded specialists, but not overpowered like in New York—people still traveled to come to them; these two had combined to make her highly sought-after and respected; and personally, she was in a damn fine place with a damn fine man. She didn't care for Boston the way she did for New York—it reminded her too much of an East Coast version of Seattle—but she enjoyed herself. Her hours weren't hectic or frenetic; most of her surgeries were planned and most of her time was spent in the clinic or the office. Which was very good—she was no longer young and no longer desired the adrenaline rush.

There was a soft knock at her door. "Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd?" Her office manager, Jackie, popped the door open a notch. "Dr. Sloan is here to see you."

Addison smiled. "You know, when I'm not with a patient, you can just send him in." She had told this to Jackie several times, but knew that the serious young woman would never do that—and HIPAA regulations were the least of her worries.

Jackie's head disappeared, replaced by Mark's body. "Hey Adds." He said, sliding into the room.

"You're here early."

"Got done with my consult." He shrugged. "Do you have any more patients? I figured we could go picnic."

She grinned. "It's the middle of February. We live in Boston."

"We're taking a walk on the wild side."

"Okay," she said, grabbing her coat. "So where's the picnic food?"

"Oh. Well, we have to pick that up. I was thinking Chinese. Or sushi."

"Sushi, but shouldn't we go all crazy and, I don't know, use picnic food? Brie? Cheese? A little wine? Hell, a turkey sandwich."

"When have you ever been white-bread-and-turkey-on-a-scratchy-blanket?"

"True." She locked her office door behind them. "Alright, Jackie, I'm heading—out. Have a nice night. Don't stay too late."

"Okay. Night, Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd." Jackie smiled.

"So which kind of picnic is it going to be?" Addison said as soon as they hit the elevator. "Cause I know what kind of picnics you like, but even if I go outdoors, it's _way_ too cold to pretend like we're teenagers and have sex on the picnic blanket out in the open. Especially since the nearest park has my students wandering about it."

"Who would be crazy enough to go outside at this time of night? We won't run into any students if we went to the park." He pulled something long and dark out of his pocket and shook it out. "Turn around." He commanded.

"What's that?"

"It's a blindfold."

"You're really going for spontaneous-and-romantic, aren't you?"

"I was reading _Cosmo_ at the dentist's today—"

"Stop right there." She laughed.

"What? It was my six-month appointment. I'm thinking of having two teeth capped, what do you think."

"Okay, first let's talk _Cosmo_, then let's talk teeth-capping."

"Don't laugh. I was analyzing models—to see work they'd had done. Moesha, the receptionist, was very impressed."

"God—people who have jobs in dentists' offices are old enough to have been named after that show?"

"Not necessarily. On the show, Moesha was about 20, right? So the name had to have been around twenty years before the show."

"It still makes me feel old. Like when one of my students announced she'd been named Jennifer Rachel for the _Friends_ character."

"Anyways. I was reading _Cosmo_—" Mark guided her off the elevator—"and they said that keeping the relationship spontaneous and romantic after being together for years is the secret to staying together."

"Obviously." Addison said dryly. "I mean, you were there for the combustion of my marriage. Textbook answer, Dr. Sloane. All women know that."

"Obviously not. Why else would it be in _Cosmo_?" he reasoned. "Anyways, I love you too much to lose you because I'm not being spontaneous and romantic enough. So I though, 'Hey! You're ruggedly attractive and quite brilliant. You know Addison inside and out. How come you haven't done anything spontaneous and romantic lately?' So I came up with my plan. And now we're going on a picnic." She felt a whoosh of cold, gritty air as they entered the parking garage. "And I'm making it a surprise. You're just going to have to, you know, stay blindfolded."

"Okay, okay, I'm playing along." Addison laughed. Mark grabbed her elbow and guided her into the passenger side of her Lexus. "Do you need my keys? They're in my purse."

"Got mine." He replied, kissing her forehead. "Thanks, though."

She weathered the drive in silence, her forehead folded in consternation as she tried to figure out where they were going. "Are we headed home?" she blurted out.

"We're going on a _picnic._" Mark reminded her, laughing.

"Sorry—just seemed like we were headed that way." She smiled. "I'm trusting you, really."

"Kay, we're here."

"I'm a little nervous."

"Don't be. We have to stop somewhere first, though. All right, step. And step. Step." He guided her slowly. Once he had opened the door to—wherever, though she really was beginning to believe it was their brownstone—he said, "Stand. Right here. Don't move."

About three minutes later, he returned. "Okay, take my hand." He instructed. "This way…this way. Okay. Stop." She heard some music start to play—good old stuff, Marvin Gaye. "Take off the blindfold."

"We're indoors."

"Would you do an outdoor picnic? Come on."

She carefully untied the blindfold, cognizant of her hair. Her mouth dropped.

They were in their brownstone, just like she'd suspected. They had gorgeous French doors that opened onto an enclosed deck from their living room, and he had opened them and strewn flower petals—lilies, her favorite. She smiled goofily. He had set up a Caribbean-blue chenille blanket on the balcony, and a picnic basket sat on top of it. Two loaves of bread, a couple of cheeses, grapes, apples, and a plate of sushi were next to the basket. A bottle of wine was on the other side, two wineglasses partially filled with her favorite Zinfandel. "Mark, this is amazing. Exactly my type of picnic." She turned to thank him, and her mouth dropped farther.

He was naked. Stark naked.

He laughed at her look, but she quickly closed it and began devouring him with her eyes. He was still hot after all these years. "Relationships," he said, coming close to kiss her, "are about compromise. So here's the compromise: your type of picnic is romantic with the wine and the cheese. And my type of picnic is naked. So we do both. Get naked." The kiss deepened to soul-penetrating levels, and she quickly obliged to his clothing-off request. As she began to tease him with her fingers, he pulled away. "Picnic first. The picnic is for you, and ladies always go first."

"You," she said, as they knelt on the blanket. "Are the most amazing man I've ever known. Possibly the most amazing man to ever exist." She fed him grapes and shivered as he licked her fingers. "And you cannot possibly know how much I love you."

"Yes." He said. "Yes, I do." He kissed her again, this time not stopping for picnic food.


	4. Wipe Out

Kay, guys, against my better judgment, the next section is up. I think it works, finally, but I'm writing and posting at the same time. Therefore, there will be some editing/correction to previous chapters made as I figure out the minute logistics of the plot.

A couple notes: The line was supposed to be "fed him grapes." Spellchecker didn't catch it; neither did I. Way to go, eagle eyes! I've corrected it.

Everything that's medical came from Wikipedia and WebMD. I'm a high school senior, not a premed student or a doctor or anything.

Disclaimer in Part 1.

Also: Addison is still Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd because, if she is referred to that on the show, she was married to Derek and changed her name before taking her boards. Even though she divorced him, all of her work and publishings, plus her certification, would be in that name, so she wouldn't change it. For that same reason, Cristina is still Dr. Yang, Meredith is still Dr. Grey, and it's why Ellis kept her husband's name after their divorce(which is mildly significant in this chapter).

Anyways, read and review! I love constructive criticism. I have a very tough skin.

* * *

"Alright, tell me what we have here." Cass said authoritatively to her herd of interns. Meredith observed carefully from behind and to the right of Cass.

"Kaitlin Baxter, age 38, admitted last night because of headache complaints and vomiting. No personality changes reported, though moments of memory loss. Typically neurology would handle this; I believe those interns have already been through this morning. We were called in preemptively because of her history. About five years ago Ms. Baxter had an anaplastic astrocytoma located in her primary motor cortex, which Dr. Shepherd removed. She then underwent chemotherapy and was pronounced cured. Her recovery was phenomenal and her function returned to normal. " David O'Brien, a hardworking, serious intern, intoned.

"Okay, David, why is _that_ so unusual?" Cass quizzed.

"Most patients with that sort of tumor live only 14 to 18 months. The five-year survival rate hovers around 5 percent. Also, the location made the operation quite delicate, and a complete recovery is something most patients can only dream about."

"Okay, we're going to work on editorializing in front of the patient later." Cass said, noticing Ms. Baxter's discomfort.

"Nah, it's okay. I was just freaked that I actually _understood_ all that techno-babble this time around." She smiled slightly pitifully.

Just then, another woman, about in her thirties, walked in with one-year-old in her arms. She bore a resemblance to Kaitlin Baxter, leading Meredith to believe she was a sister.

"This is my sister, Amy Masters, and my daughter Hallie." Kaitlin said. She reached for her daughter.

"What's the diagnosis?" Amy said anxiously.

"We were just getting there." Cass smiled. "I'm Dr. Cassandra Whitmore-Fielding, the resident on your sister's case. This is Dr. Meredith Grey, our neurosurgeon, and my interns."

Meredith smiled at the sister before turning back to the interns. "What's the standard course of treatment?"

"An MRI to determine location and if the headaches mean the cancer has returned, and then either a biopsy or surgery depending on what sort of tumor there is—if there is one." Another intern, Jessica During, said.

"Possible side effects?"

"Too early to tell." Jessica smiled. "Ask again once we have results from the MRI."

"Great. Dr. During, get a MRI by noon. Page me with the results, and then I'll ask you the question again." She turned to Kaitlin. "I assure you, Ms. Baxter, we're not going to be too hasty. We're going to move as efficiently as possible to figure out what's causing these headaches."

"Great," Kaitlin said nervously, holding her daughter.

"She's very cute." Meredith told her, smiling at the cherubic baby as she leaned in to check Kaitlin's pupils. "How old is she? About one?"

"Fourteen months." Kaitlin responded. "After my first surgery—well, I had been married, but we weren't…working out. We'd gotten pregnant in college, got married, lost that baby, and sort of coexisted for about ten years. After the miracle recovery from the tumor, I decided I wasn't _living_ anymore. He understood. We got a divorce, and two years ago I decided I still wanted to be a mom." She played with Hallie's curls and smiled at the baby. "Sperm donors—godsend." She looked up suddenly at her doctor, and narrowed her eyes into a crinkly smile. "Are you—expecting?"

"Yeah," Meredith smiled. "I'm about four and a half months along. My husband actually is your former doctor, Dr. Shepherd."

"Lucky woman." Kaitlin smiled. Her face darkened then—"Do you think the cancer's really back?"

"I'm not going to answer that question until Dr. During books an MRI and we examine the results." Meredith said firmly.

"Good answer." Kaitlin sighed again. "I'm sorry, I'm taking up so much of your time."

"No, it's fine. I understand how scary this must be." Meredith said. She turned to Amy, "But I do still have some more patients to see, so I've got to be going. Dr. During will be here soon to take you for a CT, and I'll be back after that. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to have a nurse page me."

"Great. Thank you, Dr. Grey." Kaitlin smiled, looking slightly relieved. She returned to playing with her daughter as Meredith went on her rounds.

Meredith circled through the rest of her patients, completing her post-ops from Friday afternoon. She hadn't had many surgeries lately—she had a feeling Derek and Burke were conspiring again. She circled back to Kaitlin's room, but found that she was already at the MRI. Pleased, Meredith headed towards the nurses' station, where Cristina was filling out clipboards. "Hey," she said, standing beside her.

"Hey," Cristina flipped a clipboard shut. "What's up?"

"Not much. Possible surgery this afternoon. I'm pretty excited; I haven't had one since Friday. I need a surgery."

"Welcome to pregnancy." Cristina continued to tear through her reports. "They try to mommy-track you. No surgeries. Even if you're sleeping with the guy that schedules surgeries. _Especially_ if it's his kid."

"Slow down there, you might make a mistake." Cass walked up to them.

"I want to get this done so I can move up our surgery; Izzie said that there's a cool surgery at three that I want to see." Cristina explained.

Hearing her beeper, Meredith quickly looked down. "Crap." She said, by way of an excuse. "Urgent in 3203 And Burke's surgery isn't all that cool; it's an endocarditis-correcting surgery. See ya." She jogged down the hallway.

Cass flipped open her own report. "Ours sounds cooler." She said. The two of them were removing part of a man's small intestine and reattaching it at one. She looked around. "Did I tell you what Sanchez told me?"

"Which one's Sanchez?" Cristina said blankly, continuing to fill out reports.

"Lyndsea. One of my interns. _Still _a year older than I am. Anyways. She said that George has been offered a position at a hospital in Kansas City; some saint of something. He's considering taking it."

"George? Baby Boy George?" Cristina looked around. "He got _recruited_? Are you sure?"

"According to Lyndsea, yes. He got recruited. And you know how it works around here. Interns. They gossip."

"He got _recruited_? Why haven't _I _gotten recruited yet? I'm a hot commodity."

"Yang, I'd appreciate it if that talk didn't happen at the hospital." Bailey said, mildly irritated, coming up behind them. She knew that it was a losing battle—Cristina was married to another hospital employee (oh, hell, her _boss_), it was bound to happen—but she still tried to curb it during office hours.

"No, Dr. Bailey, we weren't talking about Cristina's sex with the boss." Cass had a way with words. "Word on the street is that George is being recruited by a hospital in Kansas City, as head of pediatric cardiothoracic surgery. And he's considering taking it. And Einstein here's comment was outrage that she hasn't been head-hunted yet."

"Cristina, you're married. To. The. Head. Of. Surgery. Now why would _anyone_ recruit you?"

"Still—offers are nice. Shows that you're appreciated." She looked hard at Bailey. "Have you heard anything?"

"No I have not. And this is O'Malley's business. George's and Kayla's, and that's all. You should be happy for him. This is a big opportunity, if the intern gossip it right."

"Of course it's right." Cass defended her source. "Interns are either the source of gossip or the chain. And George isn't an intern. So my source is secure."

"Let's not speculate here." Bailey said. "I have a surgery at 10:30, a bowel resuscitation. Cass, do you have any interns available?"

"Yeah. David O'Brien. Everyone else got grabbed up."

"Good, good, O'Brien's just fine. Page him for me, will you?"

"Has George talked to you lately?" Cristina set her tray down next to Izzie's.

"Of course George and I have talked." Izzie said defensively. "We talk a lot. George is like my best friend."

"So has he mentioned getting recruited to a hospital in Kansas City?"

"What? George? No. George wouldn't leave."

"Well, he's apparently getting recruited, according to Cass's interns." Cristina bit into an apple. "Honestly. They're _recruiting _him. They're probably wooing him, with perks and offices and intern control."

"Are you madder that George is possibly—"

"Probably." Cristina interjected.

"Fine, probably—getting recruited, or that nobody's come up to you with a perky perk-filled offer?"

"George is getting wooed?" Meredith came up behind them. Cristina unconsciously straightened up in her chair.

Izzie straightened, too. "According to an intern of Cass's, yeah."

"And, I mean, it's Kansas City, so I wouldn't want to live there—it's like one step up from Des Moines—but still. They're _wooing_ him. They want him."

"Have you ever even been to Des Moines or Kansas City?" Izzie asked.

"No, but I wouldn't want to live there." Cristina shot back.

"Be happy for George, Cristina. And it's not like you don't have a husband here—if they wanted to woo you for an advanced position, they couldn't, because they can't go over-budget. They woo him first cause his salary would be higher and then they find a position for you." Meredith pointed out. "It's the same way for me."

"It's just nice to know you're appreciated." Cristina muttered.

"Yes, you poor, underappreciated wife of the chief surgeon, with interns quaking in your wake and medical journal articles flying out of your ass," Izzie snorted into her pita wrap.

"You're just jealous." Cristina said.

"No, that'd be you." Cristina lobbed a crouton at a snickering Izzie.

"Anyways," Meredith segued, biting into her sandwich. "Izzie, do you still have that catalog with baby stuff from that store you knew in LA? I should start baby-supply shopping. We know it's a girl now, so I think that we should start on the nursery soon."

"Cool, yeah, I'll bring it tomorrow." Izzie said quickly. "We can go shopping together. I still need house stuff. Anyone want to go tonight? I'm free after about six or so."

"I can't—OB appointment at 5."

"I have surgery until about eight tonight, but I need to buy Cooper something to wear to throw up all over for his christening. How about after work tomorrow?"

"No, I can't—I'm on call" Izzie said. "Wednesday?"

"Avery has dance; it's my night to pick her up." Cristina shook her head. "Thursday?"

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Dinner with my father." Though she had refused to speak to him for several years, Meredith had begun to rebuild ties with him after her mother's death. She had dinner with his family once a month, and often ran into her half-sister, Lexi, at work—Lexi was a neuro-oncologist, irony of ironies. "Friday?"

"Alex has this thing at his practice." Izzie shook her head. "Some dinner with his partners."

"Crap. This weekend, then, I guess." Meredith said.

"No. Burke wants to go to a winery Saturday." Cristina said. "I think it's cause we haven't had sex since Coop was born and he wants to get me in the mood. I mean, 12 weeks really isn't that long. And, for god's sake, I have three kids. I need recuperation time." She rolled her eyes. "And, actually, Mere, you and Derek agreed to watch my kids because you think you need more practice."

"Yeah, I totally remember that." Meredith swallowed.

Jessica During appeared behind them. "Dr. Grey," she said anxiously. "I have Kaitlin Baxter's MRI results."

Meredith slid backwards in her chair. "Great. Let me see." Sanchez quietly handed them over, and Meredith studied them for a second. "Crap." She said quietly. Then she cleared her throat and said, "What do you see?"

"Necrotic tissue surrounded by anaplastic cells." She said quietly. "Characteristic of Grade IV glioblastoma multiformes. Highly untreatable and usually fatal."

"Don't become negative, Dr. During. What do we do next?"

"Talk to her, book an OR, probably for in a few days, bring in a neurologist and an oncologist. Start on corticosteroids if the neurologist and oncologist agree. These scans have already been sent to her neurologist, Dr. Macalester."

"Good." She stood up. "Let's go." She turned back to her friends. "See ya guys."

They first paged Dr. Lennox, the head of neurology, and Kaitlin's neurologist was sent down to meet them. Dr. Macalester brought down Dr. Alexandra Grey, the consulting neuro-oncologist.

"Lexi," Meredith nodded, surprised. She and her half-sister tried to keep their professional distance, finding their situation to be incredibly awkward. "Have you two met with Ms. Baxter?"

"Meredith," Lexi nodded in acknowledgement before continuing. "Dr. Macalester met with her this morning and has been her neurologist for the past two years; I've consulted with her before but I'll review the file later. I thought it would be nice to be involved at the early stages."

"Right." She smiled grimly. "Let's do this." She knocked before walking in. Kaitlin was sitting there, playing with Hallie. Amy was looking out the window and talking on her cell phone.

Jessica, as she was supposed to, did the introductions. "Ms. Baxter, I'm sure you remember Dr. Meredith Grey, our neurosurgeon. We've also brought in Dr. Macalester and I'd like you to meet Dr. Alexandra Grey, our neuro-oncologist."

Kaitlin Baxter smiled. "That must be difficult, two Dr. Greys at this hospital. Are you two related?"

"Half-sisters, actually." Meredith said, smiling uncomfortably and reaching for the MRI scans.

"How unusual, we're technically half-sisters too." Amy shut her cell phone.

"What a coincidence." Meredith tried another smile before getting down to business.

Kaitlin seemed to notice her somber demeanor and immediately handed Hallie off to her sister. "Ames, can you take Hallie to see the new babies or something?"

"Yeah, sure," Amy said quickly, her eyes darting between the doctors before grabbing her niece and exiting.

As soon as the baby was out of the room, Kaitlin said flatly, "The tumor's back, isn't it? You all wouldn't come in if it weren't. And the symptoms are there, and the history's there. It's back, isn't it?" her voice was careful, controlled.

Meredith nodded slowly and motioned to Jessica to reveal the scans. "We've discovered a Grade IV tumor located near the Broca's area."

"Broca's area—where speech is controlled." Kaitlin said dully. Meredith decided not to correct her; it was semantics anyways. "And Grade IV—that means that it's got necrotic area."

"Yes. You know your stuff."

"I also know the survival rate." Kaitlin replied. "So, what's your first last-ditch attempt to save my life?"

"We're scheduling surgery to remove the tumor for Thursday, probably in the morning." Meredith replied. "Dr. Grey will give you a complete work-up, and after surgery, she and Dr. Macalester will figure out a plan for treatment. Chemotherapy and radiation will probably be involved."

"What sort of surgery?"

"We're going to perform a craniotomy and remove the tumor. We'll also be using stereotactic MRIs continuously through the surgery to get as much of the tumor as we can. We'll continue to monitor the tumor and probably perform stereotactic radiosurgery—radiation administered while you're under anesthesia but no craniotomy—in a few weeks." She looked empathetically at her patient. "You know the risks for the surgery—they're very low; it's combating the disease that's tricky. But you know the odds, because you've beaten them before. There's no reason why this can't happen again. The good news is you're surrounded by the best surgeons in the Northwest and we're going to be behind you fully." She cocked her head. "Do you have any questions?"

"No. I think I'm good. Last time—there were so many questions. Now, not so much. I assume I'll be started on the steroids pretty soon?"

"You'll start receiving them intravenously this afternoon to prep for surgery." Lexi stepped forward. "We should go over the treatment, pre- and post-surgery. Would you like your sister present in these?"

Kaitlin shook her head. "Yeah. Yeah, we probably should."

Meredith stepped backwards. "I'm going to go—this is all about the treatment; I'm going to go book and prepare your surgery."

"Thank you, Dr. Grey," Kaitlin smiled, numbly.

Meredith quickly ducked out of the room and headed to Preston's office, shaking her head. It all seemed so…tragic. This woman had put her life back together, and had totally recovered, and now was even sicker.

She ran into Derek outside of Burke's office, reviewing some files. "What's up?" he snapped the file shut. "You look freaked."

"This patient—I just feel badly for her. I'm coming to schedule her surgery."

"What kind of surgery?" he said casually.

"Don't get defensive and protective. It's a craniotomy to remove a Grade IV tumor."

"That's a five-hour minimum."

"I'll be fine." She stood quickly, wanting to avoid this conversation. "Quit worrying about me." She knocked quietly on the door. "Dr. Burke?"

Bailey was inside but standing to leave, so Meredith let herself in. "Just giving you a head's up, Preston." Miranda said as she sauntered out.

"Anything I should know about, or is this secret?" Meredith said quizzically.

Burke shook his head. "It's fine. Dr. Webber apparently just called her to say he's coming to visit."

"Oh, that will be nice." Meredith said.

"What can I do for you?"

"I need an operating theatre—Thursday, preferably in the morning. I have a craniotomy. We're sitting a few days to give the steroids time to reduce swelling. Which one can you give me?"

Burke raised his eyebrow. "A craniotomy? That'll take some time."

Meredith quickly felt her patience wearing thin. "Burke—I've been at this hospital for ten years, working my way up, becoming respected, leaping when you say jump, working around the fact that I _married_ my _boss_—you're not going to pull this protective crap right now. That's what it is—crap. You wouldn't do it to your wife—it's damn insulting. I've worked too hard to be mommy-tracked when my career is finally taking off. And if you and Derek are in cohorts, I will absolutely not tolerate it."

Burke looked slightly taken aback, but rightfully in his place. "Right." He looked down at his chart, which had the Board mapped out for the next week. "We'll put in OR 2 at 10 AM. Patient's name?"

"Kaitlin Baxter." Meredith rattled off her stats as Burke copied them down. "I'll see you later. And don't—do that thing, with my husband, were you plot. You're really pretty bad at it, you know."

"We'll try not to meddle." Burke smiled.

Meredith went through her day trying not to think about Kaitlin Baxter. She watched a surgery and tried not to think about it, and filled out patient forms trying to not think about it. She made it all the way to her OB appointment trying not to think about it. Derek was unable to make this one; he had to work until at least six.

"Dr. Grey? We're ready for you." The anxious, young-looking OB nurse said.

"Great." Meredith grabbed her purse. Her OB, Lenore Renard, was capable, smart, and always willing to speak up for Meredith when the boys wouldn't let her work. "Hey, Dr. Renard." She smiled.

"Hi, Meredith." Dr. Renard smiled, quizzed her briefly on her habits, routines, and any new insecurities before saying, "Well, let's do a sonogram and some tests."

First, there were the standard blood pressure and heart-rate tests, before the gel was spread over Meredith's gently swollen stomach. Meredith leaned back and relaxed. She was staring at the sonogram machine, smiling sleepily at the baby when she felt Lenore's wrist stiffen. "What's wrong?"

"See this?" Lenore said. "Look. Right there." She pointed.

Meredith gasped. "There's….there's a mass. Right there. Is that the lung?"

"It appears so." Lenore quickly finished the ultrasound. "I wouldn't be worried yet. Really, Meredith. Most of the time, any sort of mass will eventually dissolve."

"We damn well better be running more tests."

"Of course. I'll schedule one for…within the next two days. I'll call Izzie Stevens in on a consult. Don't worry, Meredith."

"Right." Meredith said slowly, the icy gel slowly cooling and freezing her to the bone.


	5. Over My Head

Disclaimer is Part One

* * *

It took Meredith forty-five long minutes to get home—long enough to have to freak out internally and calm herself down six times. _It's nothing, it's nothing, it's nothing. At least, not until we can get more tests. It's nothing, it's nothing, it's nothing. _

She parked in the garage and shuffled slowly inside. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her neck.

Standing again, she looked ahead of her—and gasped.

Baby boots. Purple baby boots were sitting on the first step of the stairs. Two steps up, another, identical pair sat. She leaned over and picked up the first pair, resting them in her palms. They were delicate. Light. Adorable.

Meredith carefully stepped around the second pair, and noticed that there was a pair about every other step. She followed them eagerly—up the stairs, down the hall, until she reached the door to the room they had designated as a nursery. Biting her lip and sucking her tongue in, she lightly turned the door handle.

Opening the door literally took her breath away. The room, once occupied by Izzie but empty for the past six or so years, had been completely transformed. The mocha-colored walls had been repainted a creamy bluish white. There was a definite princess-in-a-castle motif—a purple crown-shaped rug, a princess hat perched on a white crib, a castle-shaped bookshelf. Sparkly pink, blue, and purple dominated the room.

The crib was gorgeous, antique and white with sleigh-style rolls on the side. It was overly large and padded with blankets, and white netting dropped from the ceiling draped softly over it. There was a matching rocker and a matching changing table, and a toy chest waiting to be filled. A dresser with six drawers stacked upon one another was nestled in a corner, with an elaborate crocheted doily perched on top. Princess trinkets topped that. Tiny stars dotted the ceiling, which was painted a slightly darker shade of blue. A gorgeous mobile hung within the netting in the crib.

Derek sat quietly in the rocker, smirking and trying valiantly not to look at her. He was pretending to read a children's book—Froggy something-or-other.

"You decorated the nursery," it was statement, stated in wonder. She craned her neck to look around. "It's gorgeous."

"Thought you might like. She is going to be our little princess, after all." Derek shut the book and came to stand behind her.

"When did you…when did you do this? Is _this_ what Avery was talking about? How the hell could I not notice?" She smiled.

"Well, I'm very clever. And we have great friends." He smiled.

Suddenly, she heard muffled giggles from the closet. "Are they in the _closet_?" she said incredulously. At his face, she crossed quickly to the closet. Sliding the door open, she came face-to-face with Cristina, Burke, Izzie, Alex, and George. They all burst out laughing. "How did you _do_ this?" she cried. "I had to have noticed _something_."

"Well, you didn't." Cristina, who was held tightly by Burke, untangled herself and stepped out. "Izzie came up with the theme, and then Derek, Izzie, Avery—hey, I had to bring her, it was my day off and I wanted to spend it with my kid—" Cristina exclaimed, watching the realization dawn on Meredith's face. "And then the furniture was all delivered to our house, and Alex, George, Preston, and Derek set it all up."

"_When?_" Meredith exclaimed—"How? Seriously, how?"

Izzie stopped giggling long enough to say, "Well, Derek called Cristina and me about two months ago—right after you found out. Painters came for a day and got the whole thing done when you were on-call overnight. We purchased all the furniture two weekends ago—"

"The day that you scheduled me for that presentation to those visiting doctors." Meredith began to put the pieces together. "And the day that you two took me to the spa—that was the day after the painters!" Her friends grinned wickedly. "Oh, my god! How did I not notice the fumes?"

"It's cause I'm good." Derek smirked.

Meredith began to tear up. "It's so…great. Lovely, really. Thank you. So much." She said, "God. I don't _do_ verklempt."

"Get used to the hormones." Cristina said. "They suck."

Meredith laughed, and closed her eyes briefly. "I'm over it. I swear." She smiled and looked around. "Thank you so much, again, everyone. It's….absolutely great." She looked at everyone. "Hey—you're all here! Do you want to order a pizza or something?"

Cristina and Burke looked at each other. "Avery got her first piece of homework today." Burke said. "Kariin called us at work about that. It's math that she didn't finish in class because she was talking."

"Plus—kids, dinner—it doesn't happen, usually." Cristina said. "We just wanted to see the surprise."

"I gotta go—Kayla picked up Michael, but she's on-call tonight so I need to get home." George kissed Meredith's cheek. "I'm glad you liked the surprise."

Meredith quickly kissed Burke's cheek and hugged Cristina, and then to her final two guests. "Are you two up for pizza?"

Izzie and Alex looked at each other. "Totally." Alex said.

"Great." Meredith smiled at Derek. "Can you go order the pizza? I wanna look a little more…."

He kissed her cheek. "No problem." He grinned.

"I'll go whip up some side dishes." Izzie announced. "Alex," she beckoned for him to follow her.

"Oh, right." He said, quickly leaving and shutting the door behind him.

Meredith sat down in the rocking chair and smiled, content. Then, suddenly, her countenance clouded. _What if there's something wrong with the baby?_

Twenty minutes later, she walked downstairs, finding Alex in the living room and Derek and Izzie arguing about something in the kitchen. Flopping down next to Alex, she said, "Did they order a pizza?"

"Yeah. Now they're arguing about appetizers. Appetizers. For pizza." Alex sipped his beer.

"Whatever." Meredith leaned back. "So what's up with you, Alex?"

"What do you mean?" he said.

"I _mean_," Meredith said, feeling ornery, "what's up with you and Iz? That's the burning question here. Are you or aren't you?"

"Doing what?"

"_Together_."

"Meredith, we share a house. We share a bed in the house. You used to be so streetwise."

"I'm still streetwise. I can connect dots. But, when? You left, you were friends. You came back, you're not. What changed? When? How? Why?"

"Calm down, Katie Couric. It just…did. I guess…two years ago?" Alex said.

"Two years."

"Yes."

"Has the M word come up?"

"Money?"

"_Marriage_."

"Oh." Alex shifted. "I _knew _we should have taken the Boston deal. Hanging out with all you McMarrieds is sickening."

"Boston deal? What Boston deal?" Meredith's interest was piqued.

"We were both offered jobs in Boston after our fellowships were complete." Alex said. "Izzie wanted to be close to 'home,' though, so we took these deals. Except I was a little concerned—all the married couples."

"What? It's not like you're not _together_. You're just not _married_. You're not like Brian on that old TV show, where all his friends married off and he's sitting there screwing up the seating in the mini-van."

"No, but you're married and doing things like nursery decorating and babysitting each other's kids and doing christenings and Monday night homework. Crap like that. Family, McMarried crap." Though he had a hint of scorn in his voice, there was definite pain in his eyes.

"You honestly never thought about marriage? And kids? The whole shebang?" Meredith questioned.

"I've asked. She's not interested at this time." Alex said heavily, his eyes darting towards the kitchen.

"She _said_ that? When did you ask? How long have you been dating, this time around, anyways?"

"We made it five weeks being roomies. Since then, couple." Alex confessed. "I asked last Christmas. And then again right before we moved here."

"Did you have a ring?"

"No. It was more like a…proposition."

"You know, 'proposal' sounds a helluva lot more romantic."

"I wasn't going to buy a ring for her to say 'no' to." Alex explained.

"Wow, what a hopeless romantic," Meredith said sardonically. "Did she ever say_ why_ she wasn't ready yet? Or did you ask?"

"She said she wasn't ready for marriage. The whole lifetime-commitment thing. And she's pretty sure she doesn't want kids—she just wants to be Aunt Izzie. There's the whole daddy-issue she's got and" he stopped. "And everything that's left over from her childhood."

"You both have parental issues," Meredith pointed out, not unkindly.

"Yes, thank you Mere, for pointing out what I _know_ already." He shrugged. "She's just not as…ready, I guess…to take the marriage step." He leaned back.

"You gonna ask again?"

"Maybe. The timing's gotta be there. I'm not going to just keep asking and hoping that she caves in."

"Obviously." Meredith acknowledged.

She was still sitting, thinking, when Izzie came in with a plateful of stuffed mushrooms. "Where the hell did you get those?"

"Your kitchen. Of course, they're just thrown together, but I figured it would be nice until the pizzas got here. We ordered one flame-roasted vegetable and sausage pizza, and a chicken alfredo pizza with broccoli, mushrooms, and tomatoes." Izzie babbled on about the garlic bread order, and Meredith stared wonderingly at this nurturing, mothering baby doctor, who didn't want to get married and who apparently didn't want children. She really couldn't believe that last part; Izzie always volunteered to babysit and jumped at the chance to play with children. "The pizzas are going to be delivered here. Alex, do you want a glass of wine with your dinner?"

"Nah, beer's fine." Alex smiled.

"I'll have water," Meredith smiled. "In fact, I'll go get it now." She grabbed a stuffed mushroom on her way out.

Derek was in the kitchen, clanking plates together as he set the table. Seeing him, alone, for the first time that night, she felt a ridiculous sense of failure tinged with apprehension. What if something was wrong, what if it were her fault? On an intellectual level, that of a seasoned surgeon, she knew that there was probably nothing that she could have changed. And, she also knew that it _might_ not be anything, that it might go away, that she'd be fine. "Hey," he smiled.

"Hey," she grinned back saucily, pushing the baby to the back of her mind. "The nursery, again, was amazing."

"See, you knew that deep, deep down you liked surprises." He smiled.

"Only fun, sweet surprises. Birthday parties still don't count." She pulled a glass out of the cabinet and clicked it under the fridge.

The doorbell rang then, and Derek left to pay the pizza man. Izzie came into the kitchen and pulled a large salad out of the fridge. "Where did that come from?" Mere asked.

"Oh, I made it when I was done with the mushrooms." She smiled, leading it to the table.

The guys had already set the table, and Alex was slicing the garlic bread the restaurant had sent over. "Ready?" Derek came into the dining room, sliding the two pizzas onto the table.

The four of them sat down, balancing the sides of the table. They laughed and talked, and Meredith's mind was mostly there. Izzie and Alex finally left about nine o'clock, with kisses on the cheek and hugs and exclamations about the nursery. As Meredith watched them leave, she saw Izzie reach out and take Alex's hand. Shaking her head, she stepped a little closer to see them laughing as they walked down the road to their car.

Derek wrapped his arm around her waist, tickling her burgeoning belly. "Are you okay?" he whispered into her hair as he kissed her neck. "You've been pretty distant all night." His voice was careful, guarded.

She turned so they were embracing. "Yes. No. A little." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "At my doctor's appointment today…they saw something. A mass. They want us to have another appointment to get it checked out."


	6. Sitting Waiting Wishing

Wow, guys, it's been a while! Anyways, I hope you'll stick with me and be understanding. After the finale, and Izzie's decision, I honestly contemplated stopping. However, I couldn't; for the sake of the story, Izzie obviously finished the program even though Denny died. Then, I had to deal with graduation, summer jobs, etc.,--but I'm back now! Please review! Please!

I don't own anyone, etc., and I'm not a doctor so medical's inaccurate.

* * *

_"Dr. Grey, it's Brittany in Dr. Renard's office. We have room for you at two o'clock, and Dr. Stevens is available for a consult at this time. Please call us back to confirm or rearrange this appointment."_

Meredith clicked the phone shut before deciding that dealing with the situation immediately would be the healthy method. She had had a surgery at seven that morning, but was free for the rest of the day. She dialed Lenore's office. "Hello? Brittany? Yeah, this is Dr. Grey. Yeah, two P.M. works for me." She stared at the ceiling. "Yeah, great. See ya." Hanging up the phone, she turned on her heel and walked towards the nurses' station.

Derek was standing there, so she grabbed a clipboard and stood next to him. "I made an appointment with Dr. Renard at two; I'd like for you to be there."

"Yeah, of course." He said, looking at her strangely. "It'll be okay, Mere." He touched her elbow.

She concentrated on not flinching. "Let's just see, okay? I mean—let's just see. It could be anything. It could be nothing. We don't know yet."

"Yeah. Okay." He said. "I've got to go. I have a surgery, but it'll be done by one."

"Alright. I'm clear for the rest of the day, surgery-wise." She looked sideways at him. "I have one tomorrow. A very long one."

"Hey—" He held up his hands. "Preston told me about you cornering him yesterday. If you think you're up to it, I won't say _I told you so_."

"You wouldn't ever say _I told you so_." Meredith said sternly.

"No, I wouldn't." he answered, completely honestly.

"Anyways, the surgery. It's a former patient of yours. I'd like you to come in, check her up, because of the history. See if you can remember anything unusual." Meredith segued. "Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure. Just get me the chart."

"Sure."

She smiled before walking off to find Cristina. Cristina could always be counted to kick her ass out of her funk. She was standing outside a patient's room, twirling her hair as she read a chart. "What's up?" Cristina asked as she saw her friend approach. She began to move. "I have a surgery in twenty."

"If a gyno told you there was a mass, what would you think it would be?" she said seriously.

"Mere, you're a doctor. Be more specific."

"Just…a mass. In a baby's—a fetus's—body."

"Could be nothing. Could be anything. Ask Izzie if it's important." Cristina said briskly. Then, she turned sharply. "Why? Is something wrong with the baby?"

Meredith nodded, sucking in her cheeks. "There's a mass. Possibly a mass. They don't know yet. Derek, Izzie, and I are meeting Dr. Renard at two."

"Well, have Izzie look at it then. But don't speculate over things until you have _something_ concrete to look at."

"I'm sorry. I'm just—worried. It's something you worry over."

"Not if you're a doctor. Be a doctor, Mere. You're a damn good one. This is just something that happens. You can't worry about the what-ifs or have the residual guilt. Get your game face on."

"You have kids, Cristina. You know how hard it is to think like a doctor at times like these." Though her voice had a hint of a whine, she was happy that Cristina was being so blunt and professional. She needed that.

"Mere. Seriously. You can't worry about something that technically doesn't exist yet."

"Oh, yes, it's totally possible."

Cristina turned to her, "Do you want to do the coffee and talking thing? Cause right now I have a surgery but…you know…later. If you've got that insatiable urge to worry and moan and even bitch. I mean, normally I'm not okay with that but it's okay to be a little freaked here. It is your kid, fine. But you can't let it _get_ to your game. Thank God you don't have surgery today."

"No, blame our husbands."

"Damn the mommy-tracking. One day, Mere, we will fight the power." Cristina snapped the chart shut. "Seriously. We can do the coffee thing later, if you want, fine. But right now I have to cut up a guy's pancreas."

Meredith grinned. "No, that's good…You know what? You cheered me up already. This'll do."

"Kay." Cristina started heading towards the surgery wing. "I'm going to be done at about sixish—do you want to go shopping with me afterwards and tell me how the appointment went?"

"Yeah, sure. Shopping? What for?"

"Cooper's baptism." Cristina rolled her eyes. "I'll page you."

"Kay. Thanks." They came to a break in the hallways and parted.

Meredith headed to Kaitlin Baxter's room to grab the chart for Derek. A nurse, Sara, was already in there, checking her vitals. Kaitlin was quietly reading _Pride and Prejudice_. "Fluff reading," she said as Meredith came in. "Helps take my mind off—everything."

"I was always a major Darcy fan." Meredith responded lightly.

"Me, too. But Bingley…just always annoyed me. Any page with him on it, I almost have to flip past." Kaitlin shut the book. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to grab your chart…interns been keeping up with you?"

"They've been good…Doing the tests, running things here and there…" Kaitlin sighed.

"Where's your sister?"

"She and Hallie are out eating lunch. Not really a healthy environment for a baby, you know."

"True." Meredith conceded. She grabbed the chart to give to Derek later. "Any questions about the procedure?"

"No, still scheduled for Thursday?" Kaitlin smiled as Meredith nodded. "I think I remember everything. Besides, isn't the other Dr. Grey the one that's supposed to be doing this part? You're just supposed to cut."

Meredith nodded again, a little smile on her lips. "Surgeons are only allowed to work with unconscious patients for a reason—the God complexes would make patients kill us if they were awake."

"So what are you doing?" Kaitlin's question unnerved Meredith.

"Getting your chart." She replied quickly, waving it lightly around. "Gotta check a few things, make sure everything's set. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the way out.

Leaning against the wall, she turned when she heard a voice. "Grey," Bailey said. "Are you all right?"

She straightened. "Yeah. Totally. I'm fine."

"Yeah. Sure." Bailey walked on by. "I need an intern. Have you seen Cass?"

"Surgery with Derek."

The day seemed to be unending. Finally, it was lunchtime. Avoiding Izzie, she decided to corner George instead. "I heard you're moving to Kansas City," she said, without preamble, plopping in the chair next to him.

George placed his tuna salad on wheat carefully down on his tray and dabbed his mouth. "Who—who said that?" he bumbled.

"The interns."

"Damn them."

"So it's true."

"I'm being—approached." He said carefully. "They'd give Kayla nurse-manager of peds, too—it's tempting."

"George," Meredith said.

"What?" he half-whined.

"You're honestly thinking—about doing this?"

"Yes. It's tempting. It's a job, with perks. And prestige. It's a good move professionally. They're not a huge hospital, but it's nothing to scoff at."

"George!"

"What's your problem, Mere?" he said, using his half-exasperated, half-patient_ George_ voice.

"It's—we stick together, okay?"

"Mere—we're not interns anymore. It's not our little merry band against the world. Iz and Alex went away, for two years. It happens. Grown-upness happens."

"They were always going to come back. Is that part of your plan?"

"I don't know what my plan is." He pulled a piece of lettuce from his sandwich and studied it carefully like it was a diseased heart. "I just know that there are options and it's good to keep them open and explore them. We're not you and Derek; with your pedigree and experience and people tripping over themselves to line up at your doors. We're not Preston and Cristina; with the whole damn department underneath us and articles flying out of our asses and speaking engagements that make us _jet off _to Philadelphia for the weekend; we're not even Alex and Izzie, who have an established practice and regulars and buzz. We're not a power couple the way you three sets are. We're also not tied to this hospital. You guys are. And that's not a bad thing, but maybe we want to see what might happen." He sat back in his chair. "This is a good thing, Meredith."

She suddenly felt incredibly guilty. Licking her dry lips, she said, "I'm happy for you, George. I'm just not happy that you might leave." Her eyes were doeful.

He looked at her compassionately. "Nothing's set, Meredith. Just options."

Izzie came up then, her eyes concerned and sharp. "You've been avoiding me." She told Meredith.

"Why?" George asked Izzie.

Izzie turned to Meredith. "You're my two o'clock. That's why?"

"Is everything alright with the baby?" George said immediately. "It's okay, right?"

Meredith sighed, her head hurting so much she was craving codeine. Or alcohol. Anything to knock her out. "Yes. No. Not yet. So, maybe."

"George, don't press." Izzie cautions. "Meredith, don't freak out—don't be drastic and dramatic—yet. The appointment's not till two."

"Why does everyone keep telling me not to freak out?" Meredith exclaimed, her voice rising. "Have I started freaking out, at all, yet? _NO!_ I'm fine! I'm not freaking out! I'm a doctor, too, and I'm rational, and I'm just waiting. Maybe there's a little trepidation, or something, but honestly! I'm not freaking out yet. And if I _am_ freaking out, it's because people are telling me not to freak out!"

They looked away quietly, and Meredith felt ridiculous, mostly because she knew it was all a lie. "Okay." Izzie said. Her demeanor changed in a snap. "George, why are you leaving us?"

George sighed. "I'm not starting this again. I'm not leaving, not yet anyways. I don't know anything right now." He took a huge bite of his sandwich. "And that's all I'm saying. What's this about Chief Webber coming back to town?"

"I don't know." Izzie was instantly distracted. "But Dr. Bailey said he called her; was coming back from South Carolina. Wanted to see everyone. I think it's in a couple of weeks. Cristina should know more; where is she?"

"Surgery." Meredith stood. "I gotta go check on more patients. I have two surgeries tomorrow and one on Thursday."

"Okay, I'll see you at two." Izzie said nonchalantly. Her words only made Meredith walk a little bit quicker.

Two o'clock came _far_ too quickly for Meredith's taste. She met Derek at the nurses' station, Kaitlin Baxter's folder in hand. "Thanks," he said, "I'll look at this later."

Meredith felt as if she was moving through a very thick gel; the last time she had felt this way had been her mother's funeral. She performed all duties automatically: smile at Izzie, raise her shirt, let the tech rub the salve over her stomach. She gripped Derek's hand and willed the entire ordeal to be over. She had never felt this way, this all-consuming, ice-cold terror, this plea for a conclusion. She saw Izzie smile compassionately, even reassuringly, at her, but her returned smile didn't quite extend to her eyes. She tuned out everything and concentrated on counting the puncture-holes in the ceiling. She let their murmurs float over her, until Izzie said, "Meredith?" in a soft, gentle voice.

"What? Yeah? Sorry. Just zoning here."

"It's alright." Izzie said quietly. "It looks like a CCAM, Meredith."

Meredith scratched her brain trying to remember the acronym, "Congenital..Cystic…"

"Congenital Cystic Adenomatoid Malformation." Izzie said gently. "It's a benign tumor in the lungs. She's got a cystic, echogenic mass in the left lung. Right there."

"Right." Meredith said, her med school texts coming back, "That's okay. Well, it's not okay, but it's not bad, either. It could resolve itself."

"Yes, it could. It's fairly typical. We can't guess it's size or stage yet, but we caught it at twenty weeks—that's good. It's still fairly small, but we're going to have a echo every Monday and Thursday to track it's growth. The good news is that we can treat it here; you don't need to go to another hospital like UCSF or something." Izzie said. "You can go about your normal routines, everything. The same pregnancy warnings apply, though. Seriously. Take it easy. There's a chance that it will just dissolve, or just not grow as the baby becomes larger. Most of the time it can be treated after birth. If it becomes larger, though, and there is evidence of hydrops, you're going straight to the OR. You'll be fine, though. That's only in ten percent of the cases. We'll just keep monitoring it, okay? You'll be good, Meredith." Izzie patted Mere's hand, her amber eyes burning into Mere's grey ones.

"Any chances for preeclampasia?" Derek asked knowledgably, worriedly, and Meredith was suddenly thrown with the memory that his first wife dealt with this, that he knew everything from helping Addison study late in their med school careers.

"Only if she has to have surgery and then if the surgery goes awry." Izzie said.

"Let's not talk about the surgery." Meredith said. "There's a small chance there and it's being monitored and so let's just not talk about hydrops or preeclampasia or anything like that."

"Mere." Izzie said straightforwardly. "No matter what, it's not going to be easy. There's going to be a lot of surgeries involved. Even in the best-case, you're having a C-section, which I know for a fact you didn't want. Best-case in this case is far from ideal. There might be some touch-and-go, but we can do this, okay? We got it."

"Izzie, please. I got it. I'm good. Can we wash this off, actually? I have patients still to see. Thank you." Meredith said, straightening as the tech moved towards her. "I'm a doctor. A surgeon. The worst part will be staying in my own hospital."

Izzie's look was cautious and pursed, but she didn't say anything. "We'll schedule you for an ultrasound next Monday." Dr. Renard finally offered.

"Great. I'll take it up with the receptionist." Meredith shifted. "Thank you guys."

She began to walk out, when Derek grabbed her hand. "Are you okay with this?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but I'm being optimistic." Meredith said. "Why?"

"Mere—these things can be bad. Not always, but sometimes."

"I know. I got it."

"Well, you're being awfully blasé about it all."

"Stress is bad for the baby." Meredith said, shrugging it off. "I'm fine. A little shaken, but I'm fine. And the baby's fine. She's going to be fine. We have a nursery. And names on a list. And a good prognosis. And you know what? This will work, Derek." She looked at his doubting eyes. "What?"

"You're just…taking it well," he said finally.

"It's a nice change, isn't it?" she said flirtily. When he still seemed reluctant, she kissed his cheek. "Listen. We've been through a lot. And we made it. So this…thixs baby….is a good thing. And I'm not going to let some possibly temporary possibility of a setback detract me from this. This is bad, yes, but we've been through worse. And this is a medical problem, one that has a _solution. _Yes, it's not ideal, but I'll take it over no baby. We'll make it work." She looked him straight in the eyes, willing him to understand. "Come on. I'll take it _even easier_. Like, four surgeries a week. That's _it_. And they'll be short, and I'll get lots of rest, and I won't even go near the pit. We'll be fine, Derek."

He seemed not to believe her, but finally something changed in his eyes. "Awright." He said gruffly. He kissed her cheek. "Tell Preston. It might affect work. And tell Lexi too; the gossip will get to her and she'll worry."

"We're not telling everyone." Meredith cautioned.

"Right. But there might be gossip and you don't like to talk to her too much when things are weird. But she'll hear things and she has a sort of a right to know." Derek countered.

"Fine. Okay. I'm going shopping with Cristina tonight; I'll be later but I'll call you. When's your last surgery?"

"No more today, but I have one that starts at eight tomorrow." Derek kissed her cheek. "I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you too." She turned to go before stopping. "Derek." When he looked up, she said, "It. Will. Be. Fine." Then, she stuck out her tongue, just to try to make him laugh. He did—his eyes lit up and he grinned the 'McDreamy,' as Izzie had dubbed that particular look. She smiled. He believed her, and she almost believed herself, too.


	7. I'll Be There For You

Again, nothing belongs to me! I'm having a little trouble with getting into character, what with the dearth of new episodes. Anyways, just had to write this little bit--sorry this story is a little slow-moving, but I believe in savoring!

Review away!

* * *

Meredith found Cristina in the theatre for OR2, watching one of Burke's surgeries with Avery and a pack of interns. "You know, just because she's _probably _a _future_ surgical junkie doesn't mean it's a foregone conclusion and you have to feed the addiction." Meredith smiled at the five-year-old pressed up against the glass.

"It calms her down," Cristina said, bouncing Cooper on her lap. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Meredith replied, "Where's Nelle?"

"Kariin still has her; she didn't want to go shopping. Burke'll take care of her. Only, that means you have to drive, or else he doesn't have a way to get home."

"Do you have the car seats?"

"We'll have to move them." Cristina shrugged. "Come on Avery."

"But he's about to close the chest cavity!" Avery cried, dismayed.

"Come on, honey, you've seen this before," Cristina said as the interns tried not to laugh.

"Okay, but if there are any complications that I miss I'm gonna be mad." Avery huffed to her mother.

"Remember when she was little and the only thing that would make her sleep was coming into the OR and turning the music on?" Meredith reminisced fondly, patting Avery's hair.

"Yeah, that doesn't work for Nelle or Cooper. I think it's the lights. Where are you parked?"

"Front of the employee lot." Meredith replied. "How was school today, Avery?"

"Boring. We're studying the body in science."

"Well, that should be interesting."

"Yeah, that's what I _thought!_ But we're not doing anything interesting! We're just learning to wash our hands and to take baths and use soap and everything. Kindergarten is _boring_" she said scornfully. She turned to her mother, "Mom, I think you and Dad should come in and show us _cool _body stuff. Like livers."

"Maybe in a few years, babe." Cristina said, pressing the elevator button.

"Can we come to Grace for a field trip?" Avery stepped into the elevator, "Oh, please, Mom, that'd be so cool!"

"We'll think about it."

"Where are we going?" Meredith asked as they emerged from the building.

"Probably just the Neiman Marcus downtown." Cristina said, "Hopefully this'll go quickly."

"Do I get a new dress, too?" Avery asked.

"No way, you'll just wear your Easter dress from last year or something."

"What if it doesn't fit?"

"That's where the 'or something' comes in."

They maneuvered the two car seats from Cristina's Land Rover to Meredith's Audi, a difficult task with baby Cooper and an excitable Avery. Finally, though, they were humming towards Neiman's.

"Dixie Chicks?" Cristina asked, surprised, when the music came on.

"Yeah, I like it." Meredith said defensively.

"Ho-kay," Cristina chortled and gave her a look. Meredith knew that Cristina knew Meredith only listened to the Chicks when she needed to calm down and focus.

"Did you have a surgery this morning, Mom?" Avery asked.

"Yeah, I did. I worked on a man with liver cancer."

"Did you have one today, Meredith?"

"No, but Thursday I have a craniotomy."

"Cool," Avery said, playing with her hair. "What's the brain really feel like?"

"Warm…and wet, I guess." Meredith said. "Very slick." She shifted in her seat. "How did kindergarten go today, Avery?"

She shrugged. "Pretty good. We painted 'cause it was Art Day. But we still have to use the stupid water paint, the ones that you have to get what and then they're all clumpy and it's really hard 'cause you're painting with clay. And then we did our Hot Readings today and I finished the Gold Level so Mrs. Evany is going to go talk to Mr. Nabholz and get first grade books for me. We had our Reading Buddies come down from 4th Grade. And in math we had to take a time-telling test and I totally passed. Plus we learned the days of the week and all the months in Spanish. Do you wanna hear?"

"Sure." Meredith said, and Cristina rolled her eyes sideways until they met Meredith's, and then quirked an eyebrow. Meredith raised both of hers in response.

"_Enero, Febrero, Marzo, Abril, Mayo, Juno, Julio, Agosto, Septiembre, Octubre, Noviembre, Diciembre_." Avery recited proudly. "Plus we're doing a spelling bee on Friday. Mom, can you help me study tonight?"

"Sure, babe." Cristina said. She turned to Meredith. "Your day go okay?"

"Yeah, it was fine." Mere said quickly. Cristina raised an eyebrow(again) and settled back in her seat.

They found a parking spot and trekked into the store, Avery chatting non-stop about her piano lesson and recess and things that Kariin had said and funny things Nelle had done. The hospital visit and ten minutes of surgery had put her on a giddy high from which it was seemingly impossible to come down. Cristina quickly found the little boys' section and marched them towards it, but they got distracted when Avery found the clock section and wanted to stop and show off her time-telling skills. "Come on, watch! I'm really good!" she pleaded. "Look! 1:14, 4:53, 4:17, 9:21—5"

"Come on, Aves, we don't have all day." Cristina said, practically pulling her daughter along.

Luckily for Cristina's sanity, there was a toy area across the aisle from the boys' section, and she quickly—almost eagerly—gave Avery permission to play. "I love her, but she's got so much _energy_," Cristina marveled. "I mean, some days—it's impossible."

"She's so totally you at that age, only, you know, with encouraging parents who try to keep her curious and active instead of relentlessly pushing and criticizing her." Meredith replied, smiling. She lifted Cooper out of the stroller. "How do you think this one will turn out?"

"Hopefully laid-back. Maybe he'll be a surfer."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Yeah, probably." Cristina said. "So that consult with Izzie?"

"Went fine." Meredith said.

"Really? That mass you thought was there, magically wasn't? God, I wish my cases ended up that way."

"No you don't. Then you wouldn't get to cut." Meredith shifted Cooper on her hip. "Well, there was a problem, but it's small. It's a CCAM. You remember those?"

"Of course." Cristina's liquid eyes were unreadable; her mouth barely moved. "They're either resolvable after birth or they dissolve; but they can lead to hydrops and fetal heart failure."

"Well, that's only in ten percent of the cases." Meredith said indifferently.

"The pregnancy will probably be okay, you know, but if something goes wrong, it goes really wrong, fast. Have you looked anything up about it?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"I haven't had the time," Meredith's voice rose a little. "But right now she's healthy."

"Not really," Cristina said, not unkindly. "It's an issue. There is surgery in her future."

"So we'll just…hang in there. See what happens. Izzie will have it under control. And it's not like we don't know good surgeons." She pulled a little sailor suit out. "What about this?"

"God, no. This will make _me_ want to puke. I hate buying formal clothes for babies. They all just mess them up."

"It's the baptism. You'll have this video till he gets married." Meredith smoothed the nubbly blue fabric of the onesie down his back.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. It's important to Burke. And it pisses my mother off." Cristina held out a dark blue onesie. "Honestly, what do little _boys_ wear? Girls had dresses! That was _easy!_"

"Maybe something white?"

"Please. He'll get diarrhea that day. God hates me." Still, Cristina reached for a white silk infant suit. "Are you sure you're fine?"

"No, I'm not fine! I'm a surgeon; I'm supposed to have _control._ But what do I do about it? Whine?" Meredith said. "It'll come. It'll suck and be scary and I'm pretty much paralyzed here but it's going to happen and soon. So I'll cope. I mean, whatever." Her cell phone trilled and she grabbed it angrily. "Hello?"

"Mere, it's me," Derek said apologetically. "Listen—some guy just fell off a ladder; I have to operate."

"Alright." She sighed. "How long?"

"No clue. I'm really sorry. Where are you?"

"Shopping with Cristina. Listen, I'll be fine. Really. Go cut people open."

"Thanks," Derek said, "Bye."

"See ya."

"Derek? With a surgery?" Cristina picked up on the tone of the conversation.

"Yeah, guy off ladder."

"Do you want to come over for dinner? And then we'll make Burke deal with the kids and do the talking thing or whatever you want?"

"Yeah." Meredith exhaled. "Sounds great. You really want to do the talking thing, don't you?"

"If you don't want supportive, don't seek support." Cristina said. "Here. Does this look like it will fit?" she held up a white-and-blue linen sailor suit. "I mean, the sailor suit—he'll hate me when he's twelve, but it might work."

"Why don't you just get a christening gown?" Meredith suggested, grabbing a light blue one from the rack.

"Yeah, Burke'll go for the traditional stuff." Cristina grabbed it. "Let's get this. Thank God. Done."

Avery materialized, having wandered over to the little girls' section. "Mom, what do you think?" she pressed a Lilly Pulitzer print skirt to her hip bones and twirled. "Don't you think it's pretty?"

"It's very pretty. Now put the nice skirt back where you found it."

"But it's pretty!"

"With that argument, you should go shopping with Aunt Izzie. Put it back. I told you we were only buying something for Cooper's baptism." Avery stalked off to hang the skirt back up. "Honestly." Cristina huffed. "Her father's just wrapped around her finger—why six year-olds need brand names I'll never get. Come _on_. It's ridiculous."

Cooper burbled, and Meredith laughed. "He agrees." She smiled down at the baby. "Seriously, Cristina, I'm in awe of you and Burke and your kids. They're…amazing. And perfect." Her voice faltered, "And healthy."

"Hey, hey. You know nothing bad's _actually _going to happen. Do your research, do a procedure, fix it. It's fixable. You'll be fine."

Looking at her friend, with her utter faith in medicine and her kids, Meredith felt hopeful for the first time since the appointment. "Yeah. You know, I hope you're right."

Cristina smirked, a faint twinge of Elvis. "Of course I am. Let's go home."


	8. The Dangling Conversation

Whew, it's been a while, hasn't it? I'm trying trying trying to stay on top, but it's hard! Anyways—enough of my whining. Review, PLEASE!

Disclaimers in Part One

* * *

Preston Burke was a methodical man. He was cool and suave, the sort with ice in his veins and steel in his gaze. These traits combined to make him an excellent surgeon. However, when he became Chief and spent half the time he used to in the OR, it made him an obsessive-compulsive administrator. He had several rituals as Chief; one of them included organizing his office at the end of the day. He put the blue pens in the coffee cup by last year's framed Christmas/Holiday card (Cristina hated the picture; she had been eight and a half months pregnant in it; Cooper was born December 18th), the highlighters in a finger-painted mug Avery had made in preschool for his birthday, and then he lined the black pens up, ends to tips, along the brim of the large calendar that acted as a placemat in the middle of the mahogany desk. He straightened the myriad pictures—a wedding portrait, a snapshot of the two of them from a Christmas party, Cristina and Avery the day Avery came home, Nelle and Avery the day Nelle came home, a four-picture frame with various snapshots of the girls, a family picture from a ferry ride last October. He took a black marker and blotted out the day's activities. He took all his correspondence from the day and placed copies of administrative papers in yellow folders and papers dealing with surgical matters in blue ones. He was very obsessive and took notes over phone calls and personal meetings, and he always put those notes in red folders. He stacked them neatly on the right corner of his desk. His secretary, Charlotte, would pick them up in the morning and file them appropriately. Charlotte also put a copy of his next day's schedule on his desk by five o'clock. He would make any necessary changes and give her a revised copy to type up by six.

He spun backwards in his chair now, reviewing the last of his emails of that day and looking at his busy schedule tomorrow—meeting at eight, rounds at nine, surgery at ten, another meeting at three, post-op rounds at five. He sifted through the emails, jotting notes down beside them. "Charlotte!" he yelled, spinning towards the door. No wonder Avery loved that chair so much. Spinning was fun.

She popped her head in. "Yeah?" she said unceremoniously. Charlotte was brisk to the point of being blunt and graceless. Cristina liked her a lot.

"Can you schedule time for a meeting with Arthur tomorrow? I'd like to have a reception or something for Dr. Webber when he comes in a few weeks—the staff, some board, some press." Arthur was the President of the Seattle Grace Foundation and in charge of all fundraising efforts.

"I'll try, but look at your schedule. You'll have a tough time finding time to eat lunch." Charlotte said. "Also, five forty-five isn't the best time to call his office. His secretary's a real slacker. Plus, the administrators? The ones who aren't obsessed with surgery? They leave by five most nights."

"Thanks, Charlotte. I'll keep that in mind."

"It's a good thing to remember. Also, Dr. O'Malley is here to see you."

"George? Great. Send him in." Burke straightened the papers on his desk and stood, buttoning his lab coat.

"Hey, Dr. Burke," George said, coming in and smiling. Though he was a close friend, they still used the respectful titles while at work.

"George—what can I do for you tonight?" Preston sat back in his chair. He'd heard rumors of getting an offer—Stevens had mentioned something, as had Miranda, and Cass. Even Cristina—who usually didn't discuss work gossip at home, a sort of loyalty protecting her colleagues from the boss—had sniffed about people getting offers.

"Well, sir, actually I'm here for some advice. And, not advice coming from the chief, or from a friend necessarily, but from someone who—who I've considered a kind of mentor." George's smiling, boyish face was painted over with anxiety.

"Is this about the Kansas City thing?"

"What—how—yes. It is."

"Which hospital?"

"Children's Mercy. It's—it's not Seattle Grace, of course, the surgery department isn't…but it's a good size. There's an entire center, the Ward Center, for cardiac surgery on kids. Kansas City's a nice town. Not too big; not too small."

"Mercy's well-known for cardiac surgery on kids."

"Yeah, it is. It's a great opportunity."

"What, exactly, are you asking then?"

"I—" George hesitated. "I need to know leaving is the right decision."

"I can't give you validation here, George. You can't ask for that, either."

"I—I know that, really I do. I—just need." He stood abruptly. "It's a big thing; to move across the country. I grew up in Oregon. I went to schools out here. I'm not trying to be whiney or whatever—I guess, I guess I just need a little faith right now."

"You've been spending too much time with Meredith and Cristina and Izzie again, haven't you?" Preston smiled, "I love all three of those women, but they cut you down a lot, George."

"No—they're not cutting me down. Well, except for Cristina, but if she didn't life would be weird. No, it's more 'you can't leave, we won't make it.'" George paused. "I like that, here. I like that I'm important to people—not just the patients but the people. I like knowing everyone and being respected as a person too. I'm not the prestige whore or the attention queen, and it bothers me that I'm flattered that someone is paying this much attention to me and that I like it."

"Recognition for your gifts and genuine esteem isn't being an attention whore." Burke pointed out. "It's a natural part of becoming a top surgeon—being recognized and courted. It's not disingenuous, and, George, you have to be the only modest surgeon out there."

George smiled. "Thanks, Dr. Burke."

"I'm dead serious here, George. They'll respect you for you wherever you go, because you're George O'Malley and you're a kind, decent man, and that's the type that will have people's respect anywhere. And there will be plenty of people who will consider you a kind, dependable friend in Kansas City. And this is a good career move—not everyone is a lifer; in fact, few are. What's Kayla think?"

"She's—warming to it. Her mother lives in Dallas now. Not much closer, but some. And they'll give her nurse-manager in Peds, which she likes. Good schools. Nice neighborhoods. The usual."

"I'm not going to pressure you into staying, because I consider you a friend first—but if you want, I'm sure your salary can be upped."

"You know the money has nothing to do with it." George smiled. "But thank you."

"Good night, George. I know you'll make the right decision." Preston walked him out of his office. Charlotte was still standing there, organizing his papers. "Did you manage to get a hold of Arthur?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "No. I sent an email to Kathleen, and I'll call again in the morning. I think Thursday will work better for you, though. You've got some free time around four."

"That'll work—just need to get this planned, and soon. Is everything set for the night? I want to get home." He had seen Avery and Cristina watching his afternoon surgery for a while but leaving before he had finished perfectly. He couldn't wait to get home and rehash the maneuvers with his daughter.

"Yeah—everyone's settled in for the night that's on-call. Oh, yeah, and Dr. Shepherd's going into surgery in about a half hour. A man fell off a ladder; Dr. Shepherd thinks he can repair the spine with minimal damage if he operates immediately."

Preston shook his head. Derek always had a maverick, knight-in-armor streak. It really didn't matter if they wait until morning or even until Friday; but Derek would insist until his face turned blue that he was _that_ important and that _his_ surgery would really save the patient. It would be truly egotistical and annoying if only he wasn't so damn earnest about it. "Alright. I'm out, then. Good night, Charlotte."

xXx

Derek checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes until the surgery would begin; it was six-oh-five. That made it a little past nine on the East Coast—still early. Looking around furtively—he knew it was ridiculous, but he felt guilty—he quickly searched his address list for the number of a certain redhead. He hit _TALK _and positioned himself so that he could see anyone who approached him.

The phone rang three times before a male voice answered. Derek quickly realized it was Mark. "Hi, Mark." His voice faltered. "It's Derek. I was wondering—can I speak to Addison?"

There was a pause on the other end, which Derek figured was understandable. Addison had been crushed when she found out—after three weeks of uncertainty and confusion—that her husband had slept with Meredith at that ridiculous prom. It had quickly been a mutual parting. Mark had come to Seattle—Richard's recruiting habits really sucked for Derek—and eventually, three years later, he and Addison returned to New York City. Addison and Meredith had been able to work together, as had Derek and Addison, but it had been completely fraught with tension, and Addison's departure had been a relief to him. Derek knew that most of the women there blamed him—just as the people in New York blamed Addison. Still, everyone at Grace had felt tension lifted once the two moved on, for better or for worse. He finally heard Mark sigh, and then say, "Yeah. Let me get her."

There was scuffling, some muffled noises, then Addison. "Hello?" she said. Obviously Mark hadn't said _who _was calling.

"Hey, Addison." He exhaled. "It's Derek."

She waited a little before saying, "hey," again. Then, "How are you?"

"I'm doing pretty well. Work's going very well. I have surgery in about twenty minutes actually." He answered honestly. "And yourself?" they hadn't kept in touch, really, since she left Seattle. Too painful.

"I'm fine; my practice is going really well," she said guardedly. "How's—Meredith?"

He sighed and shifted the phone. "Actually, that's why I'm calling."

"Oh," Addison sounded confused.

"Meredith and I are—Meredith's pregnant." Derek said.

"Congratulations." Addison said dryly—she'd heard this in an email from Richard but she wasn't going to say anything.

"Not—not quite yet." He said. "She's twenty weeks along, and we had an appointment today. Yesterday, Dr. Renard—her regular OB—found a mass. Today, Izzie Stevens identified it as a CCAM."

"Oh," Addison exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "You're calling—professionally."

"Yeah. Why? Did you think I would gloat?" A trace of a smirk flitted across Derek's face.

"I don't know what I thought." She answered honestly. Clearing her throat, she continued, "So, do you want research? I have studies and information about different outcomes and new procedures to try."

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be great. Can you fax them to my office?"

"Yeah, I have the number somewhere. They'll be there before you get in tomorrow morning." Addison promised.

"Thanks. And Ads?"

"Yeah?" she said, her voice fluttering uncomfortably.

"If worse comes to worse—what's your success rate on this surgery?"

"What are you asking me, Derek?" her tone was hushed.

"Addison—you're the best, quite frankly. Izzie Stevens—she's good, she's capable. Hell, of course she is, you trained her. But she hasn't done this before. She's still young, and it's Meredith, who's a friend of hers and you _know_ this girl's track record with emotional issues. So, I'd like to know your success rate."

"I'm not going to fly across the country for you."

"If I plead?" Derek cajoled.

"Derek. There's great medical care _exactly where you are_. I'm not going to fly across the country to deliver my ex-husband's baby with the woman he fell in love with while still married to me. I don't care if scars have formed where there used to be wide, gaping holes; doing that would be an unhealthy way to deal with things. Izzie Stevens is capable and competent, and if you think she'll be too emotionally involved, there's three other doctors out there who can perform this."

"Addison. You're the best maternal-fetal surgeon in the _country_."

"And this would just be too sick and twisted. I know you love your wife and everything—I get that. But it would just be too….too soap-operatic, basically a bad idea all around. You don't deliver your ex-husband's new wife's baby. You just don't."

"Even for an old friend?" Derek gave it one more try.

Addison laughed hollowly. "If you were just an old friend, sure. If the water under the bridge wasn't laced with emotional arsenic, of course. But this—no, Derek. If you really don't like Stevens that much, it can't be too difficult for you to find a surgeon to help you out."

Derek was quiet for a minute. "Alright. Thank you for your help, Addison." He turned to see Miranda and Cass walking toward him.

"Good night, Derek." Addison gently hung up the phone.

"You were talking to Addison? How is she?" Cass asked obliviously. "Wait—ooooh."

"You were talking to Addison?" Bailey's voice was tight, skeptical. "How'd that go for you?"

"It just so happens that she's one of the top maternal-fetal OB-GYN surgeons in the country. With Meredith's—condition—I decided to call her. If Meredith scraped her face all over the pavement I'd still call Mark. If Mark had a brain tumor Addison would call me. There's still trust there."

"Damn. _Stupid_." Bailey said. "Come on. Let's go do this; I want to get home. A warm dinner might be nice. Home-cooked too."

"You know this could take five or six hours."

"And if we start now the meal will be done twenty or thirty minutes faster." Bailey shot back. She headed into the OR, making no room for further discussion.


End file.
